#getting... the first two from them this week... friday the estimate says if customs is kind.... YAAAAAY

[tillman]

dont even want to admit what i just sent away to an artist fr a commission

[writingonleaves]

bundles of flowers (we'll wade through the hours of cold) - brock boeser

pairing: brock boeser x original female character

warnings: literally nothing, lots of fluff, flower research i did two years ago, not proofread

title: “promise" by ben howard

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: dug up a creative writing piece i wrote two years ago for a class and tweaked it a bit to create this. happy holidays to all. hope you all enjoy <3

*****

It’s a routine.

When Amber Chen was a young girl, she spent most days after school at Petals Lab & Design, zooming through the front door into her father’s waiting arms, chattering about the meal she had whipped up in the play kitchen at Kindergarten that day. Customers would fawn at her pigtails as she hid shyly behind her father or skipped behind the counter and hoisted herself up on a stool, munching on apple slices her mother had cut.

During her high school days, she would be sure to lock her car twice, twirling her keys around her pointer finger as she walked in. She’d drop her backpack, placing her iced green tea in the center of the counter. If the shop was filled with customers, she’d go into the back room and check the whiteboard filled with her father’s scrawl. If the shop was empty, she’d lean her head on her chin while listening as her parents rattled on about shipments or what was going to for dinner that night. On Mondays and Fridays, it was just her and Xavier or Willow in the shop. On those afternoons, she blasted the music a little louder, swayed her hips a little bolder and dragged whichever poor soul was working that day into a dramatic dance that always left both of them laughing. 

Once Amber went to college, she still found herself coming in every other Sunday to help out, with a sample of whatever baked good she had made that week, an iced green tea, a hot black coffee and a cappuccino. Her mother would always roll her eyes, before reaching for a cookie or cupcake or brownie, chewing it thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and scrunching up her nose. 

“This is too sweet,” she’d say, or, “Too much chocolate.” 

Her father would then wander out, taking a small sip of his coffee first before placing a gentle kiss in her hair. 

“Missed you. How are classes?” Before she could answer, he would always get distracted by something else, whether it be a customer, a phone call or the sudden epiphany of remembering something he had to do hours ago. 

Amber knows that a bouquet of lilies was always acceptable for a funeral or that corsages cost $30 on average, and that yes, they can find a flower color to match the dress. She could rattle off cost estimation for bouquets by the time she was 13. She even finds herself from time to time sitting across from couples at a table tucked in the back corner of their shop, pulling out wrinkled papers to consult them about the floral arrangements for their wedding. 

One hot morning in July, she’s left completely alone to open the shop. Her parents are helping with preparations at a large wedding. She had decided to play one of her favorite playlists over the speakers, soft guitar plucking and the honey-like voice of John Mayer accompanying the routine of putting out the flowers that had arrived that morning. The music’s louder than usual, as people usually flock in about an hour after opening.

But this time, the bell rings after two songs, and she looks up to see a guy around her age, gray hoodie over his blonde hair, black vans covering his feet. The neutral color scheme of his outfit heavily contrasts the bright colors of the flowers around him. He has a calm aura about him, hunched shoulders as if he’s trying to make himself smaller to fit into the shop. She shoots him a tired smile before going back to stocking the bouquets of roses. She waits until the end of the song to speak up, finding him glancing at the orchids.

“Anything I can help you with today?”

He looks up, “Uh, not at the moment.” His hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “My mom’s birthday is today, and I’m a jackass who is getting her something right before she wakes up.”

“Well, orchids are always a solid choice.” Amber backs away with a small nod. “Let me know if you need anything.” He hums in thanks, and she walks back to the register. 

She pulls out her laptop and looks over the materials her eventual boss sent her to read before her first day of work in a month,  singing along to “Daughters” under her breath, ears alert for the tinkling of the bell at the front door. 

She looks up to see the guy shuffling to the counter, and closes her laptop. He clears his throat, eyes bright and smile contagious. “Do you happen to do custom bouquets?”

“We do.” Amber walks from behind the counter and leads him to their lab, eyes going to the multitudes of flowers and brain already spinning with ideas. “Tell me about your mom. What’s your relationship with her like?”

He blinks. “Good. She’s literally always smiling. Has never yelled at me once. She’s the strongest woman I know.” He trails off as she gathers a couple of various stems. “That all you need?”

“Well, let’s see.” She points at each flower as she describes them. “Gerbera Daisies represent happiness, pink carnations represent gratitude and peonies represent prosperity and good health. Pair all that with some baby’s breath and you got a beautiful bouquet right there.” She raises an eyebrow. “Ultimately though, it’s your gift. I can do whatever you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head with a nervous chuckle. “It’s perfect. Go ahead.”

She flashes him a grin before methodically cutting the stems of the flowers, arranging them into a lively arrangement of colors and wrapping it all together with tissue paper and a ribbon to match.

He pays for the bouquet at the register, and when she comes around the counter to hand it to him, he thanks her before ducking his head down and walking back out into the muggy Saturday morning air. She blinks as she watches him get into his car, but shakes her head to herself as the phone starts ringing. 

A few weeks later, Amber finds herself waking up to a frantic call from her mother, asking if she can meet up at Camrose Hill for a wedding. Her father has to deal with a shipping miscommunication back at the store, and she needs one more helping hand. When Amber arrives, she steps out, travel mug filled with tea in her right hand and her left hand smoothing down her red floral dress. After asking around, she finds her mother next to carts filled with roses in various colors. With a quick hug, Amber gets to work on building the arch, the light breeze making her regret not putting her hair up. 

“Funny seeing you here.”

She looks up and blinks twice, standing up from her crouched position. 

“Good morning.” She eyes him up and down, admiring his white button up and black dress pants. 

“You here for the wedding?”

“I’m the Best Man, actually.” He chuckles, shoving his hand in his pockets. “My best friend’s getting married.”

“Congratulations,” she says softly, climbing onto a nearby chair to reach the top of the arch. “Beautiful place to do it too.”

He nods, eyebrows furrowing as she stumbles slightly in her heeled sandals. “Do you need help?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a guest. You shouldn’t even be out here right now.” He eyes her warily when she attempts to reach down to grab some roses off the cart, hands automatically going up as she almost falls over. She sighs, “Fine. Grab me five ivory ones and three pink ones, please. And the scissors.”

“So, what do they mean?”

“Hm?”

“The roses. What do they mean?”

She glances at him as she intertwines the stems together, wiggling her fingers at him for more flowers. “They’re roses. Roses are pretty typical for a wedding, generally symbolizing love. I’m sure you know that.”

“How about the colors?” 

“Your friend’s soon to be wife chose ivory instead of white, and ivory usually means gracefulness. Peach roses are usually given as a thank you gift, so gratitude and sincerity is tied to that one. I’ll admit that green roses are more rarer in weddings, but it means growth, so perhaps the start of growing together as a married couple?” She shrugs. “Or maybe she just likes the color combination.”

“Knowing Stacy? It was probably very methodical.”

Amber laughs airily, before sticking her hand out. “Help me down? I need to move the chair to the other side.”

Before he can respond, someone from inside the tent calls his name. He helps her down quickly, before running his hand through his hair. 

She hums. Brock. It fits. “So that’s your name.”

“Can I get yours?” He asks hopefully. 

His name is called again and Amber shrugs with a sly grin. “Another time. Think you’re needed, Best Man.”

With a slight huff, he backs away with a wave. Her attention goes back to her fingers as she threads the flowers into the white arch, listening to the chatter of the other employees preparing. She’s out of the venue before the guests have even started arriving.

The summer always brings in tourists from all over, many itching to take a peek at a shop that has a rainbow of flowers outside of its doors. Balancing her new job at a PR firm, she pops in to help her parents, fingers slowly getting scars and cheekbones beginning to hurt daily. 

On a day where the sun is shining bright and the shop is in a lull during lunch hour, Brock walks in. His smile is wide as he makes small talk with her mother across the shop. Amber freezes when she sees both sets of eyes on her, and swallows her tea as he walks over. 

“Hi again.”

“I came in yesterday looking for you,” he said. “Your parents told me to come back today.”

“Looking for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did they tell you my name?” 

“Amber.” Fuck, her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. 

“That’s what they call me.”

“Beautiful name for a stunning girl.”

She snorts, “What can I do for you?”

He grins slightly at her professional tone. “My mom was complaining about how her place isn’t homey enough, so I figured I’d come to my favorite flower shop and talk to the experts about how to fix that.”

“My parents could’ve helped you with that.”

“I know, but I wanted your opinion.”

She moves from behind the counter, lips lifting into a smile as he immediately follows her. “If you want just a bouquet, you can never go wrong with sunflowers. And judging from your sporadically timed visits, you’re probably not around town much, so it wouldn’t be wise to get a plant that you would actually have to take care of. Unless that’s what your mother wants.”

“How do you-”

She stops in front of the sunflowers, ignoring his question. “We got a fresh delivery this morning. If you don’t like these, there are plenty of orchids I’d suggest as well.”

“I’ll take the sunflowers. What’s the special meaning of these?”

“Exactly what they look like. They bring happiness into people’s day.”

“That they do.” She feels her cheeks flush from his stare.

She quickly rings him up and bids him farewell as he walks out the door, smiling to her parents along the way. They both turn their heads to look at her as soon as the door shuts, and she rolls her eyes before venturing into the back room, ignoring the shout of questions and comments.

Winter rolls around quickly. Every time someone has purchased sunflowers these past couple of months, she can’t help but think of Brock; the last image of him imprinted in her brain was him walking out the door with sunflowers in his hand. That was four months ago.

Since then, Amber’s figured out who he is. Brock Boeser. Vancouver Canucks. Minnesota’s very own. She’s spent many nights with a few glasses of wine deep thinking too much about it. 

She’s outside the shop one day after a long day of work, on top of a ladder, gloved fingers fumbling around with the string of lights. Her cheeks are rosy, snowflakes are sticking to her hair and she’s been yawning every five minutes for the last hour, but she’s determined to get these lights up before she locks up in 15 minutes. The poinsettias, mistletoe and holly are scheduled to arrive the next morning.

“Are you guys still open?”

She straightens up at the familiar voice and tightens the gray scarf around her neck. “Yep. I’ll be down in a minute.” She hangs the last of the lights and plugs them in. Wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms, she stores the ladder away and walks in. 

“Brock. Hey. What can I help you with today?” She asks, ducking into the back room to hang up her coat. The shop is quiet, crooning notes of Spotify’s “Christmas Coffeehouse” playing in the background. The dark blue button up peeking out of his black winter coat makes her smile. It’s the most color she has ever seen on him.

“Can you help me with a bouquet?”

“Of course.” She observes the half-empty buckets. “What things do you want to symbolize this time?”

“I actually know what I want.”

“Oh yeah? Great. What would you like?”

“Purple lilacs, irises, pink roses and baby’s breath, please.”

“Just give me a second. The roses are in the back.” She begins arranging the flowers and looks up as she’s grabbing the wrapping paper, noticing his confused stare. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, you just, didn’t tell me what they mean. Like, the flowers.”

Amber chuckles. “You’ve obviously done your research. You still want me to?” Brock nods. “Okay, purple lilacs symbolize first love, irises symbolize wisdom and eloquence. Roses are romantic, but pink ones specifically? That symbolizes admiration. So I would guess you’re giving this to someone you like, maybe a romantic partner? Someone you haven’t been with for long?”

He whistles, “Damn. You’re good.”

Her heart sinks the slightest bit as she shrugs, before a particular set of flower stems caught her eye. “I know it’s your bouquet, but how would you feel about adding daffodils? It would add a beautiful contrast to all the purple you have in here. I won’t even charge you for it.”

“Add them in, and charge me for it too.” She plucks the daffodils out of the bin, separating them throughout the bouquet. “What do those mean?” Brock asks. 

“The daffodils?”

“Yeah.”

She clears her throat. “New beginnings.”

After adding the finishing touch of a purple ribbon, she punches the sale in the register and walks from behind the counter to hand the bouquet to him. 

Brock shakes his head. “Nope.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Sorry?”

“They’re for you, actually.” She raises an eyebrow, and he continues, flexing his fingers continuously. “It’s my stupid way of asking if you would like to go on a date with me.”

She looks down at the bouquet and back up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“If you’re free. Or in a couple weeks. I, uh, I don’t work around here, unfortunately. So I won’t be back in Minnesota until about a month or two.”

“I know who you are, Brock Boeser.” She hands the flowers to him again. “Hold these while I close up?”

“Is that a yes?”

Amber grins, scanning the shop. “Yeah. It’s not stupid, by the way.” She shuts off the lights, grabs her coat and locks the front door, her date for the night following her obediently. “It’s actually really sweet.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” She tentatively reaches for his fingers with her other hand as she admires the bouquet. “Do you wanna know something?”

“Anything,” He says, leaning down so he can hear her better.

“Daffodils are actually my favorite flower.”

“Like, ever? Out of all flowers?”

“Out of all flowers.”

He leads her to Osteria La Buca with a wink that has her stomach flipping. “What a coincidence.”

She looks down at the bouquet with a smile.

[jopetkasi]

I went to Greenhills today to shop for semi-precious stones for a custom pendant-cross I’m planning to have my alajero (jeweler) craft for me. My suki, a kind Muslim lady named Aaima, gave me a nice discount. The four aquamarine stones cost about ₱2,800 in total. She also convinced me to enhance the design by adding a moissanite stone at the center. I gave in to the suggestion—it wasn’t too pricey, and I figured it would elevate the overall look of the cross.

Now, here’s where it gets interesting. The cross frame is estimated to use around 4 grams of gold, and with the current gold price at ₱4,200 per gram, that’s ₱16,800 just for the gold. Adding the semi-precious stones at ₱3,400 and the alajero’s labor cost of around ₱2,000, the total estimate comes to nearly ₱23,000.

While it’s a bit of a splurge, I had some extra money saved up. Instead of spending it on milk teas and hotpot meals, I decided investing in a custom piece of jewelry to add to my collection was a more meaningful and lasting choice.

Speaking of Greenhills Mall, it was a pleasant experience. It’s not too big or too small, just the right size to explore without feeling overwhelmed. The variety of merchant stores is impressive and makes browsing interesting and enjoyable.

Oh, and aside from the stones, I also picked up some printer ink since my current cartridge had run out. A productive shopping trip overall!

Had dinner and coffee with the manongs tonight. As you can see, I looked a bit unkempt—well, let’s be honest, I always look a little worn out, haha. But honestly, a Friday dinner with the manongs was just what I needed after the whirlwind of a hectic week that followed the New Year.

It was such a welcome break to sit down, share a meal, and simply relax with family. Moments like these remind me how comforting it is to be surrounded by the people who’ve been there through everything.

Not entirely satisfied with Friday’s meal, Manong Dencio decided to invite us to Tagaytay for some bulalo. At first, I wanted to decline—I was planning to sleep the whole day and recover from the week’s chaos. But they convinced me, saying I could just nap in the back of the car and they wouldn’t mind my snoring. Fair enough, so I said, sige, no problem.

And I’m glad I went! The meal was not only hearty but surprisingly affordable. For a big bowl of bulalo, a serving of pinakbet, and some grilled tuna belly, we only spent around ₱800. A satisfying feast and great company made the trip totally worth it.

The oven you see here is one of my first “adult” purchases, made possible thanks to a Lazada sale. I finally dared to buy an appliance I’d been eyeing for my unit, and it felt like such a win.

Chris heard about the new oven and decided to drop by, bringing along some store-bought pizza dough and sauce. I contributed with leftover sweet ham and fresh basil leaves from my kitchen. The result? Homemade pizza paired with wine and some chocolates for a quiet, cozy Sunday evening.

As the night stretched past 11 PM, I noticed Chris had already gone through a bottle of wine and two cans of San Miguel in between. Concerned about him driving back, I invited him to stay the night. Thankfully, he agreed, and we ended the evening on a safe and relaxed note.

Before I end this narration, i want to address a couple of feedback sent to me. First, thank you for finding time to read the mundane journal of my life and the fact that you engaged via a private message means a lot to me. However, I want to let you know that I am working on my grammar lapses. I dare not use Chat GPT since I want my posts to be raw and unfiltered as my head churns out ideas while my fingers type them. besides, if I use AI to correct my narration it would appear so professional, obviously which is not me.

so again, bear with me and if you see any areas for improvement, please let me know as I am open to correction.

Thank you as always :)

[tehuti88-art]

8/16/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Frieda Orchudesch, her father Herr Orchudesch (no first name given), and Hans von Adel. The first two unwittingly help inspire Josef Diamant to start working for the resistance; while Hans is unrelated to them, he's Ratdog's/Adel von NN's grandson (son of his daughter Tatiana), who's named after his deceased son Hans von NN. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding their design, the Orchudesches are German spaniels (I'm iffy on the father's hairstyle), while Hans is meant to resemble both his grandfather and his namesake quite a bit.

TUMBLR EDIT: Placeholder text due to Tumblr's backdating changes. Please check back later for more info.

Following text will be modified for the next entries.

Frieda...*checks*...Orchudesch...dang that's going to take me some time...is a character concept who's been around a bit, yet nameless until just about now, and her story has shifted multiple times. It may shift yet again. But here's how it currently goes.

For some related story, check out JUTTA BENTZ'S ENTRY. This outlines Diamant's career as a jeweler and a surprise document forger, from the POV of neighboring shopkeepers who witness when his shop is raided and he's taken away. What led an esteemed jeweler to risk his own life and safety forging IDs for fleeing Jews, though...? Especially seeing as he never uses one to escape, himself.

Diamant's shop bell jingles one day and he calls out, "Coming!" and exits the back area where he's moving some boxes. In the shop he finds an older gentleman, slicked-back hair, nice suit, obviously well off, and an equally smart-dressed young woman with unusual red ringlets and soft green eyes. "Guten Tag," Diamant greets them, introduces himself, and asks how he might help them. The man says his daughter is looking for a piece of jewelry for her birthday. The young woman pipes up to say she's seeking a pendant, preferably a locket ("Money is no issue!" the man says cheerfully), and Diamant brings out a tray with a selection of his better works. The red-haired woman coos at one of the lockets--"That one's near perfect!"--but "I was kind of hoping I could find a particular design...do you have a pencil, or pen?" and when Diamant offers her such she makes a small sketch of ivy leaves. Diamant says he can do custom orders, if she's specific about everything she wants and is willing to have to wait and return when it's done. The young woman elaborates a bit on her sketch--she'd also like a jewel set in the locket front--and the drawing she makes is detailed enough that Diamant's pretty sure he can give her what she wants. They nail down the final details--including an estimate of the price (Diamant's work is good enough that he's not cheap, especially for custom designs, yet again the woman's father beams at her as he says, "Nothing is too much for mein Liebchen!")--and Diamant asks them to return in a week, it should be done by then. The man gives Diamant his card--his name is Orchudesch, his daughter is named Frieda--and the two go on their way.

Diamant works alone, he has no apprentice or even a secretary to keep records straight or a shopgirl to greet customers; he handles absolutely every aspect of the business himself. It's a lonely existence but he's used to it, and he prefers having his own routines, doing his own thing, unencumbered by others insisting what he should do. He often stays late after hours, keeping his client records in order or putting the fine touches on his latest work. The tinier and more complicated the piece, the more he's up for the challenge; he spends many hours deep into the night, losing track of time, hunched over some stone or piece of metal, jeweler's loupe at his eye, and has to make himself set the project aside just so he can stretch his aching back and go get some sleep. He has no time or motivation for friends or relationships; the gemstones are his existence, it's even in his name, like he was simply fated for this life. So he thinks little of the people behind this latest order--it's the project itself that he anticipates making the best he possibly can, he charges what he does because he pours everything he has into each work, and no one ever complains that he gouges them--and instead focuses on browsing through his collection of raw and tumbled stones, seeking the best one to fit Fräulein Frieda's specifications. He selects a tiny rough emerald and sets to work shaping it, careful to avoid fracturing the delicate stone into brittle pieces; he again heads to bed late and aching and vowing never to do so again although he knows he will.

He repeats the process the following nights, only this time selecting and shaping the metal, putting in the design, using enamel to color all the tiny ivy leaves but one, which receives the emerald. It's quite a chore insetting the teeny little gem, but he does it, secures it in place, smooths out the smudges, polishes it all to a shine, selects a chain. The Orchudesches return at the end of the week and wait as he sets down and unfolds the soft little cloth he wraps up his projects in and presents the locket to them. Diamant never looks down at his own work when showing it off, he looks at his customers' reactions to see what they think. Frieda's eyes light up--green like the enamel and the emerald--and she picks the pendant up, cradling it gently in her palm--he notices that, too. "It's almost too beautiful to even wear," she says, yet, "Papa, would you--?" and Herr Orchudesch secures the locket around her neck so it lies against her chest. She gives him a big hug--"I believe mein Liebchen is satisfied with the product!" Herr Orchudesch exclaims--and he gives Diamant his payment. "Danke, danke schön," Frieda says, holding out her hand, which Diamant grasps--he intends to clasp it briefly and then let go, not desiring to seem forward or inappropriate--but she places her other hand over his and squeezes hard before letting go. The two are still thanking him profusely as they depart. Diamant waves, but he's vaguely distracted trying to figure out why his ears started burning when Frieda clutched his hand. It can't be a crush. They're adults not children, he only just met her, and he doesn't get crushes, that's just silly. Still...in the following days as he's working on other projects, he finds that his thoughts keep returning to her. Not only was she pretty, and friendly, and appreciated his work...but she seemed to have a decent eye for design, herself.

I've never gotten into developing Diamant's backstory, his life before his job as a jeweler in the story's unnamed city. Before his imprisonment in Ernst Dannecker's labor camp, he lives a pretty decent life as an upper-middle class Jew: not quite upper class himself, he's still technically a craftsman and a merchant, making a living with his hands, yet definitely not poor--he can afford to charge fair prices based on his skill level without customers feeling cheated. Initially my assumption was he came from a family of jewelers--literally, it's in his family name, and was the reason I originally chose the surname Diamant--yet the fact that he doesn't appear to come from a wealthy background makes this seem a bit more complicated. Based on the name, I'll still assume Diamant's family has long traditionally dealt in lapidary, and Diamant just continues the tradition, which is presumably passed down from parent to child. (Diamant has no children, thus no apprentice.) But somehow, between Diamant and the Diamant family's heyday, some sort of interruption took place, to cast the family back down near poverty, so that it looks as if Diamant had to work hard to pull himself up from it...what was it? Whatever it was, it possibly led to the near-extinction of the family line, as, just like with so many characters in my story, Diamant has no close relations left. We never see his mother, father, siblings. Whatever hit the Diamant family, it hit them hard, and only Diamant remained to pull the name back up.

I toyed with the idea of the family residing in a ghetto--one of the older ones--but based on dates, this likely would have been abolished by Diamant's parents' time, at least. (Diamant must be born around or very shortly before the turn of the century, circa 1900.) It's possible the Diamants fell on hard times and ended up living in some sort of Jewish quarter instead (likely another city, as I don't think my fictional city has one), and from there struggled to ply their trade, possibly needing to resort to other, less-specialized work--perhaps selling secondhand, cheaply made jewelry--to make ends meet; I read about how Jews in the older ghettos often became pawnbrokers. Given how skilled and proud of their skills the Diamants were, I imagine such a downfall would chafe. But work is work and food must be put on the table. Even if they could no longer afford to purchase, design, and sell their own high-quality jewelry to their equally poor communities, they persisted in passing on the craft, for whenever times got better. For whatever reason--perhaps his age, perhaps his particular innate skills--this responsibility fell to Josef, and he became his father's apprentice, then journeyman, practicing with cheap stones and metals first, then repairing or repurposing midgrade jewelry obtained elsewhere, and at last designing and creating his own piece from scratch. It sells for a fine price, puts food on the table for a little while.

At a relatively young age, Diamant becomes a master jeweler who doesn't possess the goods needed to take it up as a profession; not a moment too soon as it turns out, as he then loses his remaining family, though I'm unsure how. The flu again? The Great War? Diamant doesn't go fight, though I can imagine male siblings of his doing so. His father is too old to go. It's likely a mix of factors occurring all around the same period that snuffs out the family, but whatever it is, it actually works in Diamant's favor, in that it breaks his ties to the old community and frees him to go ply his new trade elsewhere (he decides on the unnamed city of the story, loosely analogous to Berlin), with the family savings solely at his disposal (he invests in new tools and a decent selection of stones and metals, also taking along what his father left to him, and sets up shop in the decent middle-class area also occupied (later on) by the Bentzes and other small, specialized businesspeople). He's alone and grieving, yes. But he's also a businessman, and he's practical. Food must be put on the table. He learns early on how to shove down his emotions, put on a welcoming smile, sell himself as a skilled craftsman just as much as he sells his work. He also learns to keep everyone at a distance, because as the loss of his family proved, the closer you are to someone, the more it hurts when they're gone. Diamant has a brief fling here and there to scratch the itch, but he takes no wife, fathers no children, has no apprentice. He knows the family reputation, and name, will die with him. It's unfortunate, but that's just how it is. He needs to look out for himself first off.

Now, Frieda Orchudesch seems to have tossed a wrench into those plans.

Diamant shakes himself out of the odd mood he's in--convincing himself he's simply finished dealing with a particularly enthusiastic client--and resumes work as usual. A month or so later, however, the shop bell rings, and there she is again, bright red ringlets and big bright smile. Diamant almost doesn't even notice her father, she lights up the shop so much. He asks if there's a problem with the locket, has it broken?--does it need fixing? No, not at all--Herr Orchudesch explains that Frieda is so enamored of the locket that now she'd like a matching set--a ring, and earrings, to go along with it. Just as before, money is no issue, whatever his Liebchen wants, she'll get. Diamant says all he needs is designs and he'll get to work. Frieda beams from ear to ear and hands him some papers. She's already made the concept sketches. They're just as excellent as the original.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Diamant makes the earrings first, then focuses on the ring. Although he's expanded his skill set a bit to repairing and occasionally even making small clockworks--a skill he can fall back on if jewelry falls out of demand--rings are his true specialty, and he always takes extra care in creating them. He hums an old Yiddish folk song as he works, a rather superstitious habit he picked up from his father, who told him that rings have a special sort of power to them. Rings are oaths, not to be made or taken lightly, so he's never frivolous or hasty in creating them. He's always used his own designs for them before, as it seemed most suitable, other people often don't take such things as seriously as they should and he doesn't know others' intentions as well as he knows his own. This, though...this is different. He can tell Frieda's designs have some personal meaning to her, that she didn't draw them just to be pretty--the earring and ring designs match the locket so well. These are ideas she's obviously had in her head a long time. And she's just skilled enough to be able to put her ideas to paper so Diamant can interpret them adequately. He told the Orchudesches to give him a couple of weeks this time. When they arrive and he presents Frieda with her new jewelry, she beams just as brightly as before. She takes off her old earrings and puts on the new, then holds out her hand, fingers extended, and asks Diamant to place on the ring.

Diamant blinks in surprise, then feels the blood rush to his ears. Peers uneasily at Herr Orchudesch, but he's gazing at the glass displays, perhaps contemplating a purchase of his own. "Herr Diamant...?" Frieda prompts, and his eyes shift back to her; he tries to detect any guile in her face, yet can't, she just smiles and holds up her hand. He takes a breath and tells himself to stop being silly--it's her right hand, not the left, she just wants to admire her new ring, stop giving an unthinking yet innocent gesture any meaning--and takes the ring, sliding it carefully on her finger. She lifts her hand palm out and turns it this way and that--"Papa, look, it's perfect"--and Herr Orchudesch praises Diamant's work. Again, he's well paid, though he hardly thinks about the money as the two say their farewells and depart. This time he can't shake the feeling the encounter left with him. When he placed the ring on Frieda's finger, it felt like he was making an oath, and he can't tell whether she was in on it too, or not. He doesn't like not knowing. But he can't think of any other reason why she would request him to do that.

The third time she visits, she's alone, no Herr Orchudesch in sight. Diamant is reluctant to talk with her, though she insists her father knows where she is. "I've looked into you," she says, making him raise his eyebrows. She explains that she's learned he's not from there--"You're from Frankfurt"--and she had her father take her there for a visit, where she in fact spent her time finding out what she could about Diamant's family, which was once so well known there, yet then faded into obscurity. "I have something to show you," she says, and pulls a small package from her satchel, carefully unwrapping it and holding it out to him. It's a ring, yet not her ring; Diamant takes in a breath on seeing it and actually flinches back a little out of sheer surprise. "The dealer I bought it from said it was designed by a 'J. Diamant,'" Frieda says; "I wasn't sure if that was you or simply a relative of yours, but seeing the look on your face now..." She picks the ring up and holds it out; Diamant's eyes blur a little as he takes it and looks it over. "Can you tell me about it?" she asks, and he obliges.

"This was my final project as a journeyman," he murmurs, gently turning the ring in his fingers, "my first original design before I set out on my own. A commission...though it was hard to let it go. How did you find it? You said a dealer?" Frieda confirms, she found the ring in a secondhand shop, thought it looked like one of his designs, and asked about its provenance while making an offer. Diamant sadly surmises that the original owner must too have fallen on hard times and needed to put food on the table; it's a shame, but it happens. Something else Frieda said has caught his attention, though: "You thought it looked like my design--you're that familiar with my work?" he asks, confused. Frieda smiles and says, "I told you I've been looking into you."

It's an odd start, but this is how Diamant and Frieda Orchudesch meet and get to know one another. She puts his concerns at ease by assuring him that her father knows she's visiting him, she tells him everything, and he's fine with them being alone together, he trusts them both not to do anything inappropriate. Diamant isn't terribly conservative or old fashioned--he's Orthodox, and follows basic customs, yet doesn't attend synagogue often, and doesn't think much about religious matters--yet he really doesn't want any sort of unsavory accusation hanging over his head. All the women he's been involved with were unattached and not particularly observant themselves and weren't interested in relationships; no muss, no fuss. Frieda is obviously a respectable young woman from a respected--and wealthy--family: well bred, upper class, not a tradesman working family like his own. He knows he has to tread carefully around such people, and he knows that Herr Orchudesch likely intends for her to marry a nice respectable upper-class man, her equal or better. It doesn't matter what her actual reasons for visiting him may be; there's only one legitimate reason for a man and woman to be alone with each other, and he doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Frieda, for her part, doesn't do anything especially inappropriate at first; she likes simply to talk, and listen. She's curious about his family, his work, his plans for his life. Diamant isn't used to conversations but shoves down his confused feelings, puts on his best face, does the best he can. And Frieda sees right through him. She might come across as naive and spoiled and obsessed with superficial pretty things at a first glance, but she's actually quite sharp, and sees lots of fine details that others easily miss. It's the reason she learned to recognize Diamant's work so quickly, and how she can put her own designs on paper so effectively. She brings up the matter of her ring, and how she noticed the look he got while placing it on her finger; "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Herr Diamant," she apologizes, yet she doesn't offer any concrete explanation for her request, and Diamant has the distinct impression that all of this is intentional: Frieda knew exactly what she was doing when she asked him to place the ring. He hadn't wanted to admit it even to himself, yet he's attracted to her, and she's attracted to him as well.

Now that this particular intention is obvious, their meetings take on a slightly different tone. They still use polite titles, yet now refer to each other by their first names, like acquaintances. They still do nothing inappropriate, but something unspoken crackles in the air between them, and they often have to look away from each other, faces burning. Diamant tells Frieda about his family, their fall from fortune, his singlehanded effort to grasp some of that fortune back; Frieda tells him about what had once been her own dream, to be a professional violinist; he asks why this is no longer her dream, and she extends and flexes her right hand, smiling wistfully as she mentions an injury that made the dream no longer feasible. "I'm sorry," Diamant murmurs, knowing all too well how much one's livelihood can depend on their hands; Frieda replies that it could always be worse. Upon learning that she still has her old violin, he asks her to play it for him; she brings it with her on her next visit and obliges. Diamant, in all sincerity, says she sounds like a professional violinist to him; Frieda smiles ear to ear, saying, "This is why you're a jeweler and not a musician, Herr Josef, else you'd hear the difference. Still, I'll gladly accept the compliment."

Herr Orchudesch decides to commission a piece for himself; he has an old pocketwatch and, on learning that Diamant can refurbish it, requests him to do so. Frieda provides the sketch; "I have no eye for such things, I'm afraid," Herr Orchudesch says. As Diamant is examining the watch, Herr Orchudesch is silent a few moments, before venturing, "My daughter seems to enjoy the time she spends with you, I swear she's gone more often than she's at home." Feeling a spark of alarm, Diamant tries to keep a calm voice as he assures him that neither of them has tried anything improper. "I know, she tells me everything," Herr Orchudesch says, and it becomes clear he's not making any accusations; rather, he mentions how dispirited Frieda had been since being told she wouldn't ever take the stage, and nothing had managed to lift her spirits, until now: "She talks about you constantly. Like she once used to talk about the violin, and believe me, did she talk. Go figure!--I take her to get a pretty piece of jewelry to cheer her up, yet it's the jeweler she's interested in." Diamant offers to cut off communication with Frieda, still thinking Herr Orchudesch is hinting at him to back off, yet "Why would I want you to do that--?" he exclaims, "This is the happiest I've seen her in ages. There's just one thing I need to know, Herr Diamant," and he takes on a serious tone when he asks, "Are you interested in my daughter...?"

Diamant doesn't answer at first, though he's sure his emotions show on his face. "I ask," Herr Orchudesch continues, "because Frieda tells me everything...and she's told me she's interested in you. I don't want her heart broken again. Is the feeling mutual...?" This time Diamant pauses only slightly before saying, "It is." Herr Orchudesch says, "And so, do you have intentions for my daughter...?" To which Diamant replies, "Not without your blessing." Herr Orchudesch is silent a moment, appraising him, before smiling slightly and turning. "I look forward to seeing what you can do for my watch." Diamant speaks up before he can leave: "Herr Orchudesch...I'm not sure how much you know, but Fräulein Frieda looked my family up when you traveled to Frankfurt, to see what she might find out." Herr Orchudesch confirms this, she told him. "Then she must've told you that my family was nothing like yours," Diamant continues. "We did well for ourselves for a while, but we weren't like you, we made a living with our hands, manual work." He isn't sure how to put it without being offensive. Herr Orchudesch seems to understand his meaning, however--and doesn't seem to care. Hard honest work is hard honest work, whether it's lofty or down to earth; "All a man has, after all," he says, "is his word, and his hard work. Mein Liebchen wants and deserves the best. I trust her to make good decisions. Gute Nacht, Herr Diamant."

It appears Diamant has Herr Orchudesch's blessing to court his daughter. He tentatively broaches the subject when he meets her and she immediately says oh yes, they've already discussed it, and Diamant looks skyward, murmuring, "Well of course you have, you tell each other everything." "He did say you never gave him a direct answer about your intentions," she adds. Diamant is quiet for a moment, weighing his options, before deciding; he takes Frieda's right hand, removes the ring he made, and places it on her left ring finger instead. Frieda holds up her hand, turning it this way and that, and a small smile comes to her face; "It's perfect," she says.

Diamant had never really wanted marriage, a family, children; although lonely at times, he was used to it, and just assumed that was the path he was meant to follow. His craft was his life. Suddenly that's all turned upside-down, and he has mixed feelings; he doesn't regret his decision, but he does worry about losing his independence, not having enough time to focus anymore on the thing that matters most to him. Frieda quickly puts his fears to rest: They don't have to start a family immediately, there's plenty of time later, and she would never think of getting between him and his work; if anything, she'd like to run some design ideas by him, see what he thinks. He hadn't expected that she might take a role in the work herself--he's used to doing his own thing--yet her designs really are good, and she gives excellent advice. He starts warming to the idea of no longer being alone, of being one half of a whole. Losing a little bit of his independence doesn't seem so bad.

He and Frieda stroll through a secluded park late one evening, sit on a bench in the growing gloom to look out over the river, and nature takes its course. Yet again he expects wrath from Herr Orchudesch--Frieda tells him everything!--yet her father never says a word. Frieda reasons that they're already just about married, all that's needed is the ceremony to make it official, but their souls are already connected; there's nothing so wrong in it. His unease fades--by now he feels it's a given that soon, they'll be living together--and they steal away to be alone with each other when they can.

Germany...1930s. I really don't need to explain the atmosphere, do I...? Diamant notices when the swastika banners go up, when the laws start being passed, when his fellow Jewish shopkeepers start closing their shops and moving away. He hears about the ghetto which the poorer Jews are forced into at the other end of the city, and this strikes some bad memories for him, tales passed down through his family about similar times. He chafes, but doesn't argue, when he's told he must wear a yellow star whenever he's out in public. He hears of something called Arbeitslager--a work camp--being constructed at the city's edge, and all sorts of alarms go off inside him. Still--business is fine, he shoves down his worry, puts on a good face. Even for the sullen, swastika-clad youths who visit his shop to glance around and mutter a few slurs before going on their way. Diamant figures he'll discuss this matter with the Orchudesches and see what they should do. Maybe it would be most prudent to leave. Even though it'll sting badly to abandon the shop he set up from scratch. He started over once, he should be able to again. He's always been resilient.

He finishes up some projects, closes shop early one day, and sets out for Herr Orchudesch's place. He and Frieda live in a small but lavishly appointed house in a quiet, well-off neighborhood, a peaceful street lined with shade trees. The neighborhood has been getting quieter lately, what with the Jewish residents leaving. Diamant ascends the steps up to the door and reaches for the handle, only to abruptly pull his hand back--the door is cracked open already, and he can see it was knocked open by force. Alarm lighting up in him, he pushes it open and steps inside anyway. "Herr Orchudesch--?" he calls, "Frieda?" No one answers, but when he pauses, he hears what sounds like muted sobbing; he anxiously heads toward the sound.

In the parlor he finds a man huddled in the middle of the floor, head in hands, papers scattered in front of him, crying piteously. Diamant recognizes the Orchudesches's manservant and says, "Herr Heinrich--?" Herr Heinrich's head pops up with a gasp--"Herr Diamant!" he cries, and clambers to his feet, clasping his hands together. "I don't know who else I can talk to! I don't know what to do!" When Diamant asks him what happened, he says the Orchudesches are gone--he returned from an errand to find the door knocked in, and a neighbor claims she saw the police taking them away. "Police--? Why? To where--?" Herr Heinrich mentions them receiving a notice saying Herr Orchudesch had to divest himself of his business soon or face arrest--"The Jews, they aren't letting them work anymore, they keep telling them to work is illegal but what can they do?" As for where they were taken, he has no idea, but maybe the neighbor knows. "If only I'd come back just a little earlier, maybe I could've stopped this," he exclaims, and starts crying anew. Diamant tries telling him he couldn't have done anything, yet Herr Heinrich is insistent: "They sent me to fetch their ID papers, their papers that would let them leave the country. I was so close! If only I'd come back sooner!" He explains that the Nazi Party is cracking down on travel by Jews and they now require expensive documentation to be allowed to depart; the poorer Jews can't afford it, and it's getting difficult even for the richer Jews to obtain papers. Diamant is stunned to find out the Orchudesches were planning to leave already; "They were going to tell you, Herr Diamant," Herr Heinrich insists, "they wanted to get the papers first, just to be sure, then Fräulein Frieda was going to try to convince you to come with them. I got the papers! But I was too late!"

Diamant manages to calm him a bit, and heads over to the neighbor's. She's gentile but seems to sympathize--"I tried warning them this might happen, I don't know why they waited so long." When Diamant asks where they might have been taken, she peers uneasily to the city's edge. "That work camp, I imagine," she says, "though I can't be sure. You're one of them...? You might think of getting out while you still can, because I've heard nothing good about that place. I hear nobody ever leaves."

Diamant returns to Herr Heinrich and sits with him a bit, waiting for him to cry himself out, before venturing to ask him for a favor: Heinrich is German, he has much more freedom than Diamant, does he know anyone, anyone at all who works for the government? Even just the local government, a councilman or anything--someone who can tell him where the Orchudesches were taken. "They all work for the Nazis!" Herr Heinrich exclaims, "why would they want to help you?" But after a moment of pondering, he says he knows a city clerk he once went to school with, they meet for lunch once in a while, and although he had to swear an oath to the Party, he's privately grumbled about them; Heinrich isn't sure how helpful he'll be, but he can give it a try. Diamant tells him to direct the man to his shop if he has any info.

He returns to work, though he can barely focus, he agonizes so much over not knowing what's become of Frieda and her father. He glances toward the camp, but knows that going searching himself is out of the question; all it'll do is draw unwanted attention. Heinrich had asked if he too had gotten a notice like Herr Orchudesch got; Diamant hasn't yet, and would like to continue flying under the radar as long as possible. He keeps taking orders even though it's killing him inside to not know where the Orchudesches are.

The shop bell rings one day and Diamant goes up front to find a tall, slender, bespectacled man in a gray suit with a swastika pinned to his lapel; "Herr Diamant...?" he says in a mild, almost bored voice, and Diamant cautiously confirms it, suspecting he's connected to the Nazi youths who recently visited to poke around his shop. "I've heard you can repair watches," the man says, pulling out a pocketwatch; "I can," Diamant says, "though yours seems to be functioning properly." He then gasps and jerks back; without warning, the man slams the pocketwatch on the counter a couple of times, looks at it, and says, "Shame...I seem to have broken it." He holds it out again and Diamant gingerly takes it, not wishing to do anything to upset him, though as soon as he turns away the man says, "You have a back work area? I'd very much like to see it." Diamant asks why; he just likes to observe the work process, is all. Hoping that giving him a look around might get rid of him quicker, Diamant undoes the chain behind the counter and waves him forward. "Look around if you like," he says, and starts rummaging around in his drawers of supplies, seeking the pieces he needs to fix the watch. A moment or so passes, Diamant growing antsier each second, before the man says, "I was told you're looking for a couple of friends of yours."

Diamant stiffens, whirls around. "You're--" he says, but the man jerks a finger up to his mouth, cutting him off. "You've had any unexpected visitors lately...?" he says; Diamant starts to say no, then remembers the Nazi youths who looked around and bought nothing; he'd assumed it was an intimidation attempt, but it sure was a lousy one. The man sees the look on his face and taps his ear. Diamant heads back into the shop and starts looking around, checking under counters, behind displays. It takes him a few moments...but he finds it. A small listening device stuck under the edge of a shelf. He removes it, casts the man standing in the doorway a look, then crushes it under his shoe. He returns to the back room but shuts the door for good measure; he kept an eye on the youths, they hadn't entered the back of the shop, but he looks around a bit just in case.

The man confirms that he's Herr Heinrich's friend, who works in a city records office. He tells Diamant that the people in charge of the legal situation of the Jews are the Schutzstaffel, and he definitely does not work for them or have direct access to their records. He had to use his own connections--and a little old-fashioned palm-greasing--to find a record of what happened to the Orchudesches. They were both arrested and taken into SS custody, from there to be sent to the camps. Diamant asks if this means that at the city's edge; no, not that camp, as it doesn't take women and elderly people. Frieda Orchudesch was taken to a women's camp in another city. Diamant asks what happened then; the clerk replies, "The record says Fräulein Orchudesch was killed immediately after arriving."

All the air leaves Diamant's lungs. The news--his Frieda, his betrothed, his love, is gone, forever--is delivered so abruptly it hits him like a wall of bricks, and his knees buckle; he ends up on the floor. The clerk is silent a moment before saying, "I was told you were close...I'm sorry for your loss."

"She...she's, she was young and healthy...why would they kill her?" Diamant can barely manage to say.

The clerk shrugs and replies, "Maybe she wasn't strong enough for the type of labor involved. Maybe the person doing selections had a bad day. Maybe it rained when the sun should have shone. Who knows? The SS needs no reason to do anything."

Diamant still has to fight to find his voice: "Herr--Herr Orchudesch. What about him? What happened to him--?"

The clerk looks vaguely uncomfortable and tries to demur, suggesting maybe he shouldn't know, but Diamant insists, so he finally replies, "Herr Orchudesch was placed on a train to another camp out of the city. The train was delayed for several days. He'd died by the time it reached the camp."

And there, like that, it is--the Orchudesches are gone, as if they'd never been. Diamant feels his world crumbling. For the first time in his life he has no idea what to do; he's too stunned and numb even to cry. "I wish I had better news for you," the clerk says. "My advice, Herr Diamant?--leave the country while you're still able. Don't put it off, because it's only going to get worse. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe my favor here is done." As he turns to head out, Diamant mumbles, "Your watch." "I need to buy a new one anyway," the clerk says, and leaves.

Herr Heinrich visits shortly after. "I wanted to know what happened," he murmurs, and his eyes fill with tears. "The look on your face tells me." He starts weeping. "If only I got the papers to them in time." He tells Diamant that he's leaving, and urges him to do the same--"There's nothing left here for people like you and me; and they would have wanted you to escape, at least one good thing should come of all this"--then remembers he has something he wants to give Diamant. He takes it from his pocket and holds it out: Frieda's ring. Diamant nearly recoils--now, now his eyes flood with tears as it hits him, here's what started it all, here at the end of it. "They ransacked the house," Herr Heinrich says, "took all the valuables they could find. Yet they missed this...she must have taken it off when they weren't looking, and hid it in this little spot she used to hide things when she was a child...she must have hoped I would find it there." His voice breaks when he says Diamant should have the ring; Diamant hesitates, it feels wrong somehow to take it back, plus some tiny part of his brain feels almost like the ring is now cursed--yet Herr Heinrich insists, saying it was his once, and surely Frieda left it behind for him to have. Diamant reluctantly receives the ring and takes a breath as the tears start streaming down his face. It feels like the oath has been broken, somehow. He feels like he should have been there to keep them safe.

Herr Heinrich turns to leave. Before he can reach the door, however--a spark, a thought, crystallizes in Diamant's head--he looks up and quickly calls out, "The papers." Herr Heinrich stops and looks back. "You still have them?" Herr Heinrich nods and wipes his eyes--"If only I got them there in time!"--yet right now Diamant doesn't have time for more pointless weeping. He stands and approaches: "May I see them?" Herr Heinrich digs the papers out of his pocket and holds them out. Diamant unfolds them; they're similar to a passport, resembling some kind of temporary pass, with grainy photos upon them--his vision blurs seeing Herr Orchudesch's and Frieda's faces looking back at him and he has to blink it clear again--and much more detailed information than he's seen on similar documentation before; there's even a spot determining the amount of "Jewish blood" the holder possesses. An official seal with the SS emblem is stamped on them. Diamant examines them for a moment before asking Herr Heinrich, "May I keep these?--bitte?" Herr Heinrich hesitates briefly, seeming perplexed, but his eyes water once more--"They're useless now. You can have them"--he urges Diamant once more to leave, wishes him farewell, and exits.

Diamant wants nothing more than to break down sobbing over the loss, the life he almost had, the one person who understood him and he wanted to be with forever, the other half of his soul--yet that will accomplish nothing, when an idea has sparked in his head. He closes shop early and goes into the back, sitting down to study the ID papers. He doesn't just look at the information supplied; he examines the typeface used, how crisp or faded it is, whether the individual letters are broken or intact. The size, quality, texture, thickness, and color of the paper. The stock the photos are printed on, if it's matte or glossy. The colors and patterns of the ink in the background. The design of the border. The length and thickness of the lines upon which the information is printed. The signatures of the holders and the official who stamped the ID and what sort of ink was used. And especially the SS stamp atop it all. He even pulls out his jeweler's loupe to examine every single element in minute detail. Once he commits all these details to memory, he tucks the papers away among his client records and heads out to do some shopping.

Diamant visits various shops and studios, returns to the shop hours later with his arms full of supplies. Clears a spot at his jewelry workstation and starts pulling out papers and inks. A deliveryman arrives with a new typewriter. Diamant's first act is to start carefully carving a stamp; as a jeweler, he has a keen eye for the tiny details that everyone else misses until they're all put together; still, just to be sure, he consults the IDs as he works. Within the hour, he has a perfect, reversed replica of the official SS ID stamp.

Diamant hates even looking at the evil thing, and promptly shoves it away in a drawer, yet continues working. Of course, he wasn't able to obtain exact samples of everything he needs, a few times he had to settle for near matches. He works late into the night as if it's one of his jewelry projects, switching between brush and pen and typewriter, doing gentle washes in muted colors, fanning the paper dry, pressing it flat under books, drawing the most delicate lines and patterns, typing in the information, affixing the photo, and finally--the very last step--inking the stamp, dabbing most of the ink off, and pressing it against the paper. The seal appears faded and patchy, as if it's been used countless times, yet the double lightning bolts are obvious. Diamant sits a moment and stares at his new official ID papers granting him passage out of the German Reich. Then shoves them in the drawer with the stamp and wonders WTF he's doing.

He gives himself the night to sleep on it. The next day he makes some calls, asks for help tracking down an acquaintance whose name he's forgotten, maybe someone can help him, he's a friend of Heinrich's. He finally reaches the correct office where a secretary responds not with "I'm sorry, I have no idea who that is," but "I'm sorry, he's out of the office right now." Diamant leaves a message to stop by his shop later that evening for an urgent matter, reiterating that he's "a friend of Heinrich's." Then resumes his regular work as he waits.

Just before closing time, after his last customer for the day leaves, the shop bell again rings. Diamant heads to the front. The city clerk is standing at the counter, a sour look on his face. "I was under the distinct impression our dealings were concluded," he says crossly. "And yet here you are, calling around and putting my job in jeopardy. I shouldn't have even bothered giving you the time of day for such negligence. Now tell me what you want before I reconsider my decision to come here." Diamant brushes off his warnings, presenting him with the ID papers; the clerk looks them over, blinks, and exclaims, "You took my advice--? Excellent, excellent, this is a wise choice you won't regret, Herr Diamant, trust me. Just take it to the appropriate office and you should be on your way. Remember to pack light, they won't let you take much."

Diamant lets out a breath. "It's convincing, then--?" he asks, feeling a surge of hope for the first time in ages. "If you were the one checking it, you'd let me through?" The clerk blinks again, furrows his brow--"What are you talking about?--you mean this..."--and then looks at the papers again. Squints, lifts his spectacles, holds them inches from his face, studies them. "This is a fake--?" he exclaims, and looks at Diamant, aghast. "What are you thinking?? Forging government documents and showing them to me! Are you mad?? Are you trying to get us both killed--??"

Diamant manages to calm the clerk down a bit, explaining that he's not asking him to accept the ID as genuine or even to help get him out of the country. He just needs to know if it's convincing enough to fool a clerk with his level of experience, and what about it might be improved. The clerk very reluctantly admits it's the most clever forgery he's seen, and clarifies that there are small variations between IDs, enough to likely account for whatever tiny inaccuracies exist in Diamant's copy. (Diamant had hoped as much, but wasn't sure.) The SS seal and signatures are the most important elements. Once he has this information, Diamant does make one final request: If he or one of his fellow clerks who deal with processing applications for such IDs ever hear of any parties who aren't able to obtain one, to direct them to come to his shop. The clerk, immediately understanding his intent, protests--"I won't endanger myself or my family any further by perpetrating a scam! Have you no idea how powerful the SS is? If they catch you forging their seal, they'll put you in a camp for certain!"--yet Diamant insists he's not asking him to participate in the scheme...just to point people in his direction. He won't need to sign or verify or fake anything at all. The clerk's resolve falters; after a brief hesitation, he says simply, "I have to go now," and heads for the door. "If you try contacting me again," he adds at the door, "I will not respond," and leaves.

Time passes. Diamant gets to know his neighboring shopkeepers, the BENTZES, and even strikes up a business arrangement with them; like him, they tend to keep to themselves, though Frau Bentz admits she's worried about his welfare. Diamant isn't sure how trustworthy or not they are, so keeps his own counsel; at the very least, he figures he's shielding them from whatever misfortune might come his way. He gets lost in thought while working on his projects, mulling over how to get word out that he's trying to offer help to those attempting escape; having so few connections to society is suddenly quite a hindrance. He starts to figure his plan must be shelved, and instead broods over a feeling of unfinished business, of letting the Orchudesches down. He'd wanted so much to do SOMETHING to set things right.

His bell rings one day and he's rather surprised when a family of five enters--surprised, because their attire and appearance is rather shabbier than the rest of his regular clientele. The man meekly addresses him, "We...we were told you're offering a bargain...?" Diamant frowns, says, what? The man falters, looks ready to leave then and there, yet the woman speaks up instead. Reiterates that they were informed that Diamant is offering a bargain. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, I'm not having any sale," Diamant says, increasingly confused, "Are you sure you have the right shop?"--because these people look like they'd never be able to afford anything he's selling. "You're Herr Diamant, ja--?" the woman insists, growing desperate; "We were told you're offering a bargain. A deal on custom items--personalized, for each of us. Bitte, we're willing to pay, everything we have."

"I'm sorry," Diamant says, bewildered; "I do custom work, ja, but I'm afraid I'm having no--" And then the phrase hits him. Personalized, for each of us. He blinks. "Custom items," he says, and looks at the woman, who's staring back pleadingly. "How many custom items?" he asks, just to be sure, and when she says, "Five," he undoes the chain and gestures for them to follow him into the back.

In privacy, Diamant listens as the couple tell him they tried to apply for IDs to leave the country, but couldn't afford the fees. The clerk seemed to notice their distress, and quietly told them that if they were willing to take a risk, to look up a jeweler's shop called Diamant's, and ask the proprietor if he was offering a deal on "custom items"; if all else failed, they could say that "Heinrich" sent them. They were on their own from there, no guarantees. Diamant tells them all the info he'll need to do the job--the woman has already gathered it, when applying for the actual IDs--and he takes it. He asks if they have any place to stay for a day or two as he prepares the papers; they say yes, and he instructs them when to return. He waves off the woman's offer of payment, saying they can settle that once they have the IDs in their hands.

Diamant toils over five sets of papers. Keeps the clerk's comments in mind, focusing mainly on the officials' signatures and the SS stamp, though also putting minute detail into the rest. When the family returns he gives them the papers but cautions them that he's never done this before, so he can't guarantee the clerks will be fooled; he's done his best, but they're still taking a huge risk. If they want to back out, he won't charge them anything. They hesitate only briefly before the woman says that they can either take a risk which might result in their incarceration/death, or do nothing at all and definitely meet the same fate. They'll take their chances. Diamant takes his payment--promising it'll go toward purchasing supplies for more IDs--and wishes them luck.

It's sheer agony in the following days, wondering and not knowing if the ruse worked. Yet then one afternoon a messenger arrives with a telegram. It's vague and brief, but the sender wants him to know they've reached their vacation home safely, and thanks for the help. They leave no names, just "Heinrich's friends."

Thus begins Diamant's new job, moonlighting as a document forger. At the start, he can easily recognize these clients when they arrive--they're always poorer than his jewelry clients--yet as time goes on, even better-off Jews, with income similar to his, start arriving. He can only assume that not only are sympathetic clerks passing along the word, but his reputation is also being spread by word of mouth; with this comes the increased risk of him being found out, yet he keeps at it. Without fail, the people he helps urge him to leave the country as well, get out while he can, yet he remains behind. Every ID he forges is another life possibly saved, another mark on the tally his mind is keeping; he doesn't know how many of their lives he'll need to save before he'll make up for Frieda's and her father's lives, no amount ever feels like enough to wipe the slate clean. He knows that the more IDs he forges, the longer he stays, the closer to disaster he brings himself, yet he just keeps at it; he'd hoped for some kind of redemption, yet nothing he does ever seems good enough, nothing ever closes the wound.

He never does find out who tips off the authorities. Maybe someone planted another bug? He does his best to be careful, he never keeps records of THOSE clients, he gets them in and out quickly. Is it a suspicious neighbor? A spy posing as a client? A clerk caving in under pressure or threats? A flaw or mistake in one of his own forgeries? He doesn't know, and frankly it doesn't matter. A military truck full of Party members and SS officials pulls up out front of his shop one bizarre day as windows are getting smashed along the street, and he's hauled into his back room. They tear through his client records, they pummel him with their fists and kick him with their boots, they jab his jeweler's files into his arms and take the jeweler's torch to his chest, but he insists he knows nothing about any forgeries. They almost break him, but keeping Frieda's face in his mind, her bright ear-to-ear smile, fuels his hatred, and hatred is stronger than fear. His shop is torn apart and set afire, he's dragged out and tossed into the truck, he's driven to the rail yard.

It makes no sense, he thinks, and the other men, strangers, crowded in the car with him murmur the same thing. They know where they're going. The camp just at the city's edge. But why like this, when the truck could take them? And why is it taking so long? One of them, a slightly older man, says the waiting is the point--there are ways to torture someone without laying a finger on them, simply by driving them mad with the waiting, the anticipation of a dreadful fate that never quite comes, except that's just it, that's the dreadful fate. The train is deliberately stalled. They're deliberately taking their time. Everything about this is deliberate, even accidents, because every dead Jew is just one less mouth to feed. Diamant recalls Herr Orchudesch's fate--dying slowly in a stalled train car--and wonders if his will be the exact same fate.

It isn't. Eventually the train starts moving again, a lengthy circuitous route, before arriving at the camp. Everyone is marched along a ramp--so much yelling--a uniformed man casts them each a quick glance, shouts "Left" or "Right." Every so often, a burst of gunfire sounds from the direction of those who are sent "left." The captives flinch, the guards don't. Diamant remembers what he was told of Frieda's death, and wonders, as he moves up the line, if that's to be his fate. The guard doing selections glances up at him, makes a face--"Right!"--and Diamant is shoved out of the line and toward a long building nearby.

A bored-looking SS officer is leaning against the building outside the door, arms crossed, cigarette in mouth; he simply watches as the men are herded inside, told to strip--Diamant's ears burn with humiliation as he does so--and directed toward the showers. Diamant's heard the rumors; he stands under the shower head, trying not to shake, hears a loud hiss, gasps when something explodes from it just over his head--then shudders--it's water, cold water, but just water nonetheless. The prisoners quickly wash themselves, shuffle into another room, are given striped clothes to wear. Another room, their heads shaved and their arms tattooed--Diamant grimaces both times, all the unnecessary added humiliation. Their personal details are entered in a ledger; Diamant sees his fellows having quick photographs taken, but for some reason no one calls his name. Then, badges quickly stitched to their shirts; Diamant receives a green-and-yellow Judenstern. The man affixing it to him is also in stripes and colored badge; "What does it mean?" Diamant asks, "Means you're a criminal, and a Jew," the other prisoner replies, "same difference to these folks."

He's sent back out, made to get in another line in the muddy yard--roll call--work and barracks assignments--waking, meals, and sleeping times--rules and regulations. A loud-voiced officer yells this all out at them as they stand at attention, the bored-looking officer beside him, looking everyone over. Diamant feels a twinge of surprise when the yelling officer introduces the camp commandant--who isn't him. He indicates the bored-looking man, and says, "All of you may refer to him as Mein Herr, or Herr Dannecker."

I've outlined some of Diamant's stay in the labor camp in previous entries. His cautious friendship with fellow prisoners Lukas Mettbach and Arno Spiegel. How he makes the mistake of standing up to Dannecker, then finds out the hard way just how formidable the unassuming-looking Obersturmbannführer is, once he declares Diamant his "pet project." How being a pet project perfectly encapsulates what he learned on the train, that you can break a person without even laying a finger on them; Commandant Dannecker is an expert at psychological warfare, especially the use of Russian roulette. How he's not above using plain old physical torture, too--jamming a jeweler's file into Diamant's right hand and twisting it around, shredding the nerves. How Diamant finds himself scheming again, another wild and reckless plan, knowing that if he doesn't get out of there, Dannecker will either kill him, or make him kill himself. How the plot involves persuading the commandant's stepdaughter, Gret, to help him, and the particular ruse they use to trick Dannecker into letting down his guard, with Gret asking him for a gift, a piece of jewelry. Dannecker just happens to know a jeweler, once the best jeweler in the city. He has Diamant brought to him. He commissions him to make a ring.

...

Frieda isn't a character I made in her own right; she was originally intended to fill a simple role in Diamant's life, that of soulmate. As leader of the Diamond Network, Diamant helps bring Inga Dobermann into hiding; separated from her family and lonely, she kisses him, but he refuses to let it go any further--even though it's obvious he's fallen in love with her. He knows her husband is her true soulmate, and he knows how it hurts to lose half of your soul; when explaining what happened to Dobermann, he starts to mention how he suspects Dobermann must not like him, including for his race; Dobermann cuts in with "Not like you--? I HATE you! I hate you for breaking up my family. I hate you for taking my wife from me and our daughter. I don't give a damn what you are, I'd still hate you. Now get out of my house!"

The comments sting--but Diamant isn't offended. He understands that the hate comes from the hurt. Dobermann just admitted a pretty big and important truth that's been hazy up until now: He doesn't care if someone, including Inga, is Jewish or German or what. He loves her just the same, and hates Diamant for separating him from his soul. Diamant determines to not only never get in the way of that, but to reunite the family as soon as he's able. It means he'll end up alone...but Inga isn't his to have.

The Dobermanns are indeed reunited at the war's end, and spend a blissful final year or so together before Dobermann sacrifices himself in the Alpine Fortress. Diamant tries to save him, but Dobermann, knowing he'll just end up pulling him down with him, hits his hand and forces him to let go. His final words to Diamant: "Look after her." He's known about Diamant's feelings for a long time, but never hated him for that. It's quite a while before Inga learns of her husband's last request, as Diamant never tells her; she learns it from Lukas. Diamant reaffirms his feelings for her when she visits him about it; the two begin a cautious relationship. They never marry, but remain devoted to each other until Inga's death around a decade later, from early-onset dementia (she confuses Diamant for Dobermann, telling him she loves him, then in a brief moment of lucidity, adds, "I love you, Josef"); Diamant never partners with anyone else, though he continues to treat the Dobermanns' daughter, Adelina, as if she's his own. He commissions a sculpture for their graves: Louis Dobermann with a cross, Inga Dobermann with a Star of David, holding each other's hand and gazing at each other.

In "In Heaven," Inga and Dobermann are reunited at last. But who is there for Diamant to meet...? My initial idea for the unnamed Frieda, in life, was for them to meet similarly to how it's described here, yet she tells him she's leaving the country, and she'll wait for him; after the war, he never goes looking for her, and they never meet again. This didn't sit well with me; Diamant wouldn't have left someone hanging like that. He had to have a good reason to never meet her again...the only way he'd never go seeking her is if she's not alive anymore. Frieda's story came into being as I wrote this up, and I learned not only who Diamant's soulmate is, but his own history too, and his ultimate motivation for taking the path he does, endangering himself up to the very end so he can help others. It isn't solely altruism that motivates him; it's hatred for the SS, and guilt over his past failure to save half of his own soul.

Ironically, Dr. Schäfer describes Diamant to Sgt. Gerhardt as having "sold half his soul to the devil," following his murder of Dannecker--who was known as "Der Teufel"--and escape from his camp. In effect, he's "become" Dannecker. Gerhardt also notices all the similarities Diamant shares with members of the SS, telling him in a moment of anger that he and his enemy, Lt. Hesse, are merely two sides of the same coin. Diamant even disguises himself in an SS uniform. This is a harsh truth it takes Diamant a long time to accept, that in his efforts to set things right, he ends up radicalizing himself to be nearly indistinguishable from what he hates most. He isolates himself for a while following the war (the others believe he was captured and killed), before meeting the Dobermanns again.

Diamant must intentionally wipe Frieda from his mind for a time. In "In Heaven," people (who don't go through purgatory, or already did) first meet with the person their soul calls out to the most. For example, Otto Himmel meets his wife Dagmar; Hesse meets Sophie; Teal Rat, abandoned by his family, meets a stranger who heard his soul call out in loneliness. Diamant doesn't meet Inga, he meets...Dannecker. It's utterly shocking for him to meet his old tormentor again this way, and for a moment he thinks he must be in Hell although he doesn't believe in it. Dannecker explains that the one your soul calls out to isn't necessarily your soulmate or even your friend; it's the person to whom you were most closely connected when you died, for better or worse. Schäfer's assessment of him wasn't too far off the mark, that in the absence of half his soul (metaphorically speaking, probably), something needed to fill the void, and what filled it was hate. Maybe, if Diamant had let it fade rather than fester, his soul would have healed sooner, and called out to the one it really wished to see. Dannecker says, better late than never; then lifts his head and looks at something behind Diamant. There she must be now, he says, the person Diamant truly wanted to meet. Diamant looks, and finds Frieda Orchudesch coming his way, smiling ear to ear. Stunned and confused, he glances back, yet Dannecker is gone. Frieda is still there, though, and she smiles up at him, saying, "I've been waiting for you."

See also HERR ORCHUDESCH'S ENTRY.

[Frieda Orchudesch 2024 [‎Friday, ‎August ‎16, ‎2024, ‏‎12:00:08 AM]]

[gloryofluv]

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 5

Well, I guess Alex is going through the motions. I am really starting to love how well-rounded this is getting. Flirty fics are fun, but they always need heart and perseverance!

Chapter

1 - 2- 3 - 4

Fuck. Why did she do that? Alex wanted to toss her phone but knew she couldn’t afford a new one yet. Memories. Social media keeps track even if you don’t. She was bundled on the ground of the bathroom she just cleaned and sobbed.

All she wanted to do was look at this real estate agent that Lucifer texted her. She glanced down at the picture of her and her mother while she was getting dressed for prom. Would she be upset that she was thinking of selling their home? Would she be proud? She felt so fucking alone.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and she stuttered on a breath. Fucking get it together, girl. She wiped her face and nodded. “I’ll be out momentarily,” she said in a cheery tone.

Breathe. Stand up. Bitch, buck the fuck up, you’re at work. Alex listened to her inner dialog, turned on the water to the sink, cleaned her hands and face, and fixed her makeup. After she was satisfied, she picked up her tool tote and walked to the door with a plastered smile.

Solomon was on the other side of the door. “Hey, Alex,” he said with a curl to his lips.

“Hey, Sol, how are you doing?” she asked.

“Not horribly. I’m a bit stuck on this formula, but it’s bound to come to me,” he voiced while walking in step with her.

She rocked her head and shifted at the entrance to the counter. “Let me just go put this away and clock out. We can chat a minute after I’m off the clock.”

He rocked his head and leaned on the wall nearby. “Want to take a walk with me?”

She tilted her head and hummed. “Maybe.”

“Good, I’ll order, and we’ll head to the park.”

“Oh, good, we’re taking a walk to the park?”

Alex glanced over to see Satan wander over with his tea and pastry bag. “Oh, hey, Satan. I didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head and gestured to his messenger bag. “I was grading pages.”

Solomon crossed his arms before touching his chin with his fingers. “You want to join us?”

Satan rocked his head. “A little fresh air would be great.”

“Okay, let me just go finish up,” Alex smiled and walked to the back of the shop. Well, it was quite the variation, but after how interesting her Sunday had been, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. She turned to the computer after putting the tote away and clocked out. Shaking out her body and taking off her apron and hat, she rolled her neck.

There was something to be said about the smears on her uniform. Alex stripped off her overshirt and straightened her purple tank top, and pulled out her ponytail. After checking her face in the mirror and reapplying a few touches on her eyeliner and lip gloss, she was ready.

Better. Alex smiled and collected her bag before marching to the front again. Solomon and Satan seemed to be in a discussion about the book in Satan’s hand. Their hand gestures only confirmed the estimation as Alex walked over to collect her drink.

“Hey, babes,” Jess hummed. “Do you think you could do me a favor and take my Friday shift, and I’ll take your Saturday one. It's closing, and I have a date.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yeah, I can. You never ask me to trade, so they must be pretty hot,” she teased.

Jess smirked and rocked her head. “Yeah, Mr. Macchiato, who comes in the evenings.”

“Nice, well, I hope you have tons of fun. Text Jordan and let him know, alright?”

Jess beamed and blew a kiss. “You’re a lifesaver for my social life, hun.”

Alex waved and met up with the two intellectuals holding their beverages. “I’m just saying that Dickens wasn’t as extraordinary as we make him out to be,” Solomon huffed.

“Oh, no, we’re on about Charles again?”

Satan laughed and shook his head as they walked out the door. “Just Solomon’s primary dagger.”

“Solomon, do you just enjoy debating?” Alex asked.

Solomon smiled and shifted his head from side to side. “Occasionally, but so does Satan, so we have a mutual understanding never to take it to blows.”

“I think the Brontë sisters are probably a staple for every woman,” Alex added to the conversation.

“And men,” Satan nodded.

“Very true, but we need to selectively decide what mannerisms are dated in order to value the interpretation,” Solomon voiced.

Alex smirked and raised her hand to her chest. “'Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!'” She paused after the quote and laughed. “Imagine declaring equality to a man who was higher in rank and stature than you in that time. The dated behavior is only setting.”

Satan let out a stream of hearty laughter. “Oh, Alex, I would have loved to have you in my class today. There was a sexist animal who was definitely in need of a strong female to set him straight.”

“My little Jane isn’t very plain,” Solomon chuckled and waved his hand.

“No, she isn’t,” Alex laughed before sipping her iced tea.

“I was referring to you,” Solomon hummed.

Alex smirked at him and shrugged. “I do pretty well, I suppose.”

Satan cleared his throat, drawing Alex’s attention to her left. “So, you realized that half your customers are my brothers.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yes, I was informed of that by Belphegor in a rather creative way.”

“I heard,” Satan laughed. “We all live together.”

“So I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Interesting dynamic,” Solomon voiced. “All seven of them together.”

“They also throw some ridiculous parties,” Alex said and then waved her free hand in a circle. “From what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know you live across the street,” Satan snorted with a smug smile. “I’ve known longer than Lucifer.”

Alex gasped as they walked on the sideway in the park. “What?”

Satan chuckled and rocked his head. “Yes, I knew from Jordan. I was the one to buy his motorcycle.”

She shrieked and gasped. “Oh! That’s why I’ve seen it around the cafe.”

Satan wagged his eyebrows. “So yes, I’ve known for about four months. He pulled it out of your garage and brought it over. When I asked why he moved, he told me about your circumstance and why he was torn, but family comes first.”

“It does,” Alex smiled. “His mother was great to me when my parents died. She practically lived with me for the first six months. Then Jordan moved in, and he got me a job at the cafe. He’s always been like my big brother. So when his dad got injured at work and couldn’t work, I told him to move home to help.”

“How did you both meet?” Solomon questioned.

“Oh, that’s a funny story, actually. So, in middle school, he was a grade above me, and I was super shy. He saw me being harassed by some asshole. He stepped in and smoothed the situation. I was so shocked he was able to do so without violence. Jordan took me to the bathroom, cleaned me up, and told me that the only bitches in our life are the beautiful bitches we can be, so I needed to learn to walk like it. From then on, he just started pulling me into his antics,” she explained and laughed while shaking her head.

“You were shy?” Satan questioned.

Alex stopped drinking her tea and nodded. “I actually am in general. I took his advice to heart. I’m friendly and enjoy people, but I don’t have very many people I consider close with.”

“Is this why you aren’t dating anyone?” Solomon questioned.

Alex narrowed her eyes at him and smirked. “Yes.”

“Liar,” Solomon smiled.

“Wait, I really find this fascinating. You aren’t close to any family?” Satan asked.

Alex shrugged and hummed. “My aunts and uncles all live in different parts of the country. I was an only child, and now that my parents aren’t here, the only people I see are Jordan and his parents. Jordan’s sister left for a university across the country two years ago. I see them probably once a month.”

“You live alone? Like no one ever comes to knock on your door or calls your phone?” Satan questioned with a scowl.

“Well, I won’t be living there much longer,” Alex sighed. “I have to sell the place, so I’ll have to clear it out in the next couple of weeks. The financial officer, my parents, left in charge, said that the funds wouldn’t cover the expenses this next year, so it would be a good idea for me to sell.”

“Hm,” Solomon murmured. “I could help.”

“No,” Alex shook her head. “It’s time. I don’t need handouts, Sol. I appreciate it, but no.”

“Why do you feel like you have to do everything alone?” Satan asked as they rounded the outside of the park.

Alex breathed and shook her head. “It’s such a long story.”

“Your parents?” Solomon voiced.

This analysis was cathartic in a way, and Alex felt this heavyweight being pulled from her shoulders. “Well, yes and no. I was telling my mother before she passed that I was thinking of taking a year off to go with my boyfriend at the time to travel the world. She was so supportive, even though it would put my education in jeopardy. When they died, he bailed with some other girl, so I kind of just stopped relying on others.”

Satan tutted and exhaled. “To be an idiot teenager who couldn’t handle grief. I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age.”

Alex smiled and shrugged as they made their way back to the cafe. “I’m pretty good. I have a degree. I’ll have a decent nest egg to pay for my schooling for an even better education and my best friend. I’m doing pretty well.”

“I have an intrigue before we conclude our adventure into your life,” Solomon hummed.

Alex tilted her head as she grinned at him. “What’s that?”

“You are strong without someone, but it makes it so much richer to share your heart with others,” Solomon declared.

“Says the man who has done his fair share of that,” Satan snorted.

Solomon rolled his eyes. “Satan, don’t cast stones in glass houses.”

“You have been married three times now,” Satan snorted.

News. Alex raised her eyebrows. “Three times? Aren’t you like barely forty?”

“I resent that,” Solomon scowled. “No, I am not. However, marriage and love are difficult measurements in a formula very few understand. I’m difficult.”

“I actually like that about you,” Alex laughed.

Satan scowled as they stopped at the sidewalk near the cafe. “You enjoy that he’s difficult, but you won’t text me?” he questioned with a sly smile.

She puffed and pulled his phone from his bag’s pocket. It was sticking out and available. Alex then went to his keypad, dialed her number, and pressed the call. Her phone soon rang, and she hung up.

“Now, you have my number. Stop trying to make me do all the work, you pushy professor,” she snorted and handed his phone back.

Satan was grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Solomon handed her his phone, and she groaned but did the same exact thing. “If you both call me all the time, I will block your number,” she teased.

“If you need any help with your house, please tell me,” Solomon nodded. “I am quite organized.”

“I will,” Alex smiled.

Solomon tossed his cup in the trash and smiled before walking to his car. Alex watched him wave and climb inside before driving off in the silver vehicle. Satan shifted and tilted his head when she turned back to him.

“Did you want to have dinner with me tonight? I’ll cook,” Satan offered.

“Just because we’re temporarily neighbors does not mean I’m a booty call, understood?” Alex questioned.

Satan snorted and straightened his shirt. “You’re far too interesting to blow on a booty call, Alex.”

“Just had to make it clear. I would take your offer for dinner, but I’m actually exhausted. Diavolo came in for a coffee tasting, and I hosted it. Since then, I’ve just been drained.”

Satan rocked his head. “Well, I’ll ask tomorrow then,” he smiled and shrugged. “You’ll eventually say yes,” he chuckled and walked over to the motorcycle.

Alex smiled and observed as he slid on his helmet, waved, and climbed on the bike. Bad boy, professor. Pretty sexy. That tickled her to no end. He pulled out with a roaring shift of gears and headed in the same direction she needed to go. Home. Even if it was just for now.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

[newstfionline]

Saturday, June 26, 2021

Florida Keys faces stark reality as seas rise (The Guardian) Long famed for its spectacular fishing, sprawling coral reefs and literary residents such as Ernest Hemingway, the Florida Keys is now acknowledging a previously unthinkable reality: it faces being overwhelmed by the rising seas and not every home can be saved. Following a grueling seven-hour public meeting on Monday, held in the appropriately named city of Marathon, officials agreed to push ahead with a plan to elevate streets throughout the Keys to keep them from perpetual flooding, while admitting they do not have the money to do so. If the funding isn’t found, the Keys will become one of the first places in the US—and certainly not the last—to inform residents that certain areas will have to be surrendered to the oncoming tides. “The water is coming and we can’t stop it,” said Michelle Coldiron, mayor of Monroe county, which encompasses the Keys. “Some homes will have to be elevated, some will have to be bought out. It’s very difficult to have these conversations with homeowners, because this is where they live. It can get very emotional.” The islands’ porous limestone allows the rising seawater to bubble up from below, meaning it just takes high tides on sunny days to turn roads into ponds, while global heating is also spurring fiercer hurricanes that can occasionally crunch into the archipelago.

Death toll in Florida collapse rises to 4; 159 still missing (AP) With nearly 160 people unaccounted for and at least four dead after a seaside condominium tower collapsed into a smoldering heap of twisted metal and concrete, rescuers used both heavy equipment and their own hands to comb through the wreckage on Friday in an increasingly desperate search for survivors. As scores of firefighters in Surfside, just north of Miami, toiled to locate and reach anyone still alive in the remains of the 12-story Champlain Towers South, hopes rested on how quickly crews using dogs and microphones could complete their grim, yet delicate task.

Study: 29% of tourists are looking forward to enjoying Mexico City’s beaches (Worldcrunch) A quick look at a map of Mexico will tell you that its capital, Mexico City, lies pretty much smack dab in the middle of the country. With the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico a five-hour drive in either direction, Mexico City is as landlocked as they come. Unlike many other major cities, it doesn’t even have a river. So this may come as a bit of a surprise that a study on tourism in the Mexican capital, conducted by the city’s business association COPARMEX, found that almost 30% of potential foreign visitors to the bustling megalopolis said they were particularly looking forward to enjoying "its beaches." As daily Publimetro reports, most respondents to the study, hailing from 17 different countries, even named names—citing "Cancún and Acapulco" (respectively 1,600 and 400 km away) as the beaches they couldn’t wait to go to. Alberto de la Fuente, the head of Moratti Strategic Business which compiled this “Macro Study on Reactivating the Tourist Economy” study, said the results showed the "potential" of tourists who know very little about Mexico but could be attracted with the right advertising campaigns.

Helicopter carrying Colombia’s president attacked; all safe (AP) Colombian President Iván Duque said Friday that a helicopter carrying him and several senior officials came under fire in the southern Catatumbo region bordering Venezuela, in a rare instance of a direct attack on a presidential aircraft. Duque said everyone on board the helicopter was safe, including himself, Defense Minister Diego Molano, Interior Minister Daniel Palacios and the governor of Norte de Santander state, Silvano Serrano. A video released by the presidency showed several bullet holes in the Colombian air force helicopter. Duque did not provide the time of the attack or say who he believed carried it out, but several armed groups are known to operate in the area.

3 dead, hundreds injured by rare tornado in Czech Republic (AP) A rare tornado tore through southeastern Czech Republic, killing at least three people and injuring hundreds, rescue services said on Friday. The tornado formed late Thursday as strong thunderstorms hit the entire country. Seven towns and villages have been badly damaged, with entire buildings turned into ruins and cars overturned. Over 120,000 households were without electricity.

Russia’s northern passage (WSJ) Melting ice in the Arctic Ocean is bringing a centuries-old dream closer to reality for Russia: a shipping passage through its northern waters that could put it at the center of a new global trade shipping route. After one of the warmest years on record, the Kremlin is near to realizing its controversial plans for a global shipping route in its high north—plans that have put Moscow at odds with the U.S. and could create friction with China, two countries that also have designs on the Arctic. Warming in the Arctic is happening twice as fast as the rest of the planet. Last year, ice coverage reached some of the lowest levels ever recorded, and it is only expected to shrink further in 2021. That is pushing Moscow to build infrastructure along the route, which can cut the distance of trips between Europe and Asia by a third compared with shipping through the politically fraught South China Sea or congested Malacca Straits currently used for cargo.

Russia vs. U.K. in the Black Sea (Foreign Policy) Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov said his country would respond aggressively to any attempts by other countries to enter waters off Crimea that it deems Russian territory. Referring to Russia’s allegation of measures it took to deter the HMS Defender, a British ship that sailed close to Crimea on Wednesday, he said Russian forces “may drop bombs and not just in the path but right on target.” Speaking to the BBC, the Defender’s captain, Vince Owen, said the vessel’s path was deliberately taken to uphold its right to navigation in an area it deems part of Ukraine’s territory. Ukraine and the United Kingdom deepened naval ties on Wednesday, when the two countries signed an agreement to boost Ukraine’s naval capabilities and create new naval bases in the Black Sea and Sea of Azov.

Russia mandates vaccinations for some as virus cases surge (AP) They tried grocery giveaways and lotteries for new cars and apartments. But an ambitious plan of vaccinating 30 million Russians by mid-June still has fallen short by a third. So now, many regional governments across the vast country are obligating some workers to get vaccinated and requiring the shots to enter certain businesses, like restaurants. At east 14 Russian regions—from Moscow and St. Petersburg to the remote far-eastern region of Sakhalin—made vaccinations mandatory this month for employees in certain sectors, such as government offices, retail, health care, education, restaurants, fitness centers, beauty parlors and other service industries. Moscow authorities said companies should suspend without pay employees unwilling to get vaccinated. As of Monday, all Moscow restaurants, cafes and bars will admit only customers who have been vaccinated, have recovered from COVID-19 in the past six months, or can provide a negative coronavirus test from the previous 72 hours.

Myanmar fighting since coup has displaced 230,000 people, UN says (Reuters) An estimated 230,000 people have been displaced by fighting in Myanmar and need assistance, the United Nations said on Thursday, as a major armed ethnic group expressed concern about military force, civilian deaths and a widening of the conflict. Myanmar has been in crisis since a February 1 coup ousted an elected government, prompting nationwide anger that has led to protests, killings and bombings, and battles on several fronts between troops and newly formed civilian armies. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), said relief operations were ongoing but were being hindered by armed clashes, violence and insecurity in the country.

Parts of Sydney going into lockdown as virus outbreak grows (AP) Parts of Sydney will go into lockdown late Friday as a coronavirus outbreak in Australia’s largest city continued to grow. Health authorities reported an additional 22 locally transmitted cases and imposed a weeklong lockdown in four areas, saying people could leave their homes only for essential purposes. “If you live or work in those local government areas, you need to stay at home unless absolutely necessary,” said Gladys Berejiklian, the premier of New South Wales state.

WHO warns of ‘humanitarian disaster’ in Syria if no cross-border aid renewal (Reuters) Failure to renew a cross-border aid operation into Syria which expires next month could result in a new “humanitarian disaster” for the country’s rebel-held region in the northwest, a World Health Organization spokesman said on Friday.

Child soldiers carried out attack that killed at least 138 people in Burkina Faso, officials say (Washington Post) The deadliest massacre that Burkina Faso has suffered since extremists invaded the West African nation was perpetrated by mostly children, officials said, injecting fresh tragedy into the six-year conflict that has killed thousands. A group of young boys helped carry out the early June attack that claimed at least 138 lives in the northeastern village of Solhan, government spokesman Ousseni Tamboura said. “The attackers were mostly children between the ages of 12 and 14,” he told reporters this week in the capital, Ouagadougou. The announcement comes as 10 percent of Burkina Faso’s schools have shuttered due to rising insecurity.

The art of Belgian zen (The Economist) Allowing a soldier to go AWOL is a misfortune. Allowing a soldier to go AWOL armed with stolen machineguns, four rocket-launchers and a pledge to “join the resistance” and kill Belgium’s top virologist looks like carelessness. The tale of Jurgen Conings, a 46-year-old army sharpshooter, who disappeared in May, has diverted Belgium. A month-long manhunt featuring special forces from five countries, drones and sniffer dogs turned up nothing. Instead, Mr Conings’ body was found on June 20th by a local mayor. He was mountain-biking nearby and noticed a smell.      Stuff happens in Belgium. From the outside, it is a grey country famous for fries, Magritte, chocolate and as the home of the EU—a project whose entire ethos is making European history one of dull process rather than bloody war. From the inside, it is chaos, to the point that a tooled-up anti-lockdown terrorist nicknamed “Belgian Rambo” roaming the woods seems par for the course. This is, after all, a country where someone sabotaged a nuclear-power station in 2014, without causing too much of a stir. Sometimes the disorder is merely amusing—trains being delayed because of a fire at a waffle factory, for example. Or when officials blamed the destruction of blueprints for Brussels’s tunnel system on hungry (and undiscerning) mice.      Surviving Belgium requires a certain state of mind. Call it Belgian zen: an ability to cope with a way of life that is sometimes disturbing, sometimes wonderful, but always weird. The country has survived happily without a federal government for up to two years at a time. It is the world’s most successful failed state. Belgians are almost as rich as Germans and better off than Britons or the French. Their health care is excellent. Property is cheap; wages are high. A Belgian life is, on average, long and prosperous. In such circumstances, a heavily armed soldier roaming the woods can be brushed off with dark jokes. As long as Belgium avoids true tragedy, nothing will disturb Belgian zen.

[conniejoworld]

DAVE LIEBER Our test of the post office delivers sad results O K, we know the mail is late. Often very late. Now The Watchdog can prove it. I ran a mail test last week by sending letters across Dallas-Fort Worth. The results are an embarrassment. The post office is looking at what could be its worst service breakdown in its 228-year history. You know most of the reasons: Overtime was halted. Blue collection boxes were taken off the streets. Sorting machines were disconnected and decommissioned like old Navy ships taken to a scrap yard. But The Watchdog has discovered another reason for mail not getting delivered on time. You probably didn’t hear about this reason. Starting in late July, before the delivery crisis began, the U.S. Postal Service launched a surprise test for mail carriers. The test came with a name that’s just mumbo-jumbo enough to confuse you. It’s called the Expedited Street/Afternoon Sortation test. A better name would be “the Carriers Only Get 15 to 30 Minutes to Get Out the Door Test.” Its purpose, according to top officials announcing it, is “to assist in reducing the morning office time for city letter carriers by enabling them to get on the street earlier.” The goal was “to enhance customer service by providing more consistent delivery times.” But here’s what happened. The test was unprecedented because it disrupted the normal flow of mail delivery. Almost 400 branches across the nation were ordered to participate, but I’m told that many other branches ended up testing some aspect of it. Inside the post office, it was nicknamed “Grab what’s there and go.” Carriers had 30 minutes (in some cases only 15) to finish prepping their mail for delivery, checking their vehicle, grabbing their scanner and keys and departing. Whatever mail was not sorted before that new grab-and-go deadline was left behind. There was always tomorrow to deliver the rest. Maybe. Within days, mail got backed up almost everywhere. With the elimination of overtime, no one was getting paid to finish the daily delivery. Undelivered mail was stored inside or left on loading docks. USPS’ own delivery standards were ignored. Among the late arrivals: medicines, income checks, bills. (Cue the dying baby chicks.) “The mail being processed was drastically delayed,” said Kimetra Lewis, president of the Dallas chapter of the National Association of Letter Carriers. The stress among her carriers was palpable. “The carriers were calling me on a regular basis” to complain, she said. “Nearly every office was implementing their own version of the test,” she said. “This test was totally different from ones in the past,” says Yared Wonde, president of the Dallas branch of the American Postal Workers Union. “This one is, if the mail is not cleared by 9 a.m., leave it on the floor for the next day.” You may have noticed my sources for this information are two local union presidents. That’s because for the first time in 15 years covering USPS, their media representatives are not allowed to talk to me. “We are not currently providing any interviews,” usually helpful spokesman Albert Ruiz told me. He didn’t give a reason, but I found it in a USPS directive that could have been titled “Our Bunker Mentality.” ‘Consistent message’ Vice.com first reported contents of the order: “The Postal Service continuously strives to project a positive image, protect its brand, and present a unified message to the customers and communities it serves,” the memo begins. “It is imperative that one person speaks on behalf of the Postal Service to deliver an appropriate, accurate and consistent message to the media.” And that one person is new Postmaster General Louis DeJoy, whose fast retreat from enacting his supposed reforms included everything but waving a white flag. After a people’s revolt led to bipartisan criticism from lawmakers, DeJoy issued a statement that he was pulling back. In one of the biggest retreats since Gen. Robert E. Lee fled the Battle of Gettysburg, DeJoy, who has donated more than $1 million to President Donald Trump’s campaign funds, promised to halt drastic actions that he and his minions had pushed in his first weeks on the job. In a forced change of heart, DeJoy vowed to maintain post office hours, leave mail sorting machines and blue collection boxes alone, keep facilities open and restore overtime. DeJoy vowed in his published statement: “To avoid even the appearance of any impact on election mail, I am suspending these initiatives until after the election is concluded.” That sounds counter to Trump’s motives. He has said that he initially opposed more funding for troubled USPS and hoped to avoid “universal mail-in voting” in his reelection bid. Yes, the postal service has massive short-term and long-term problems. But is now the right time to break the vast system into dysfunctional pieces? Ellis Burgoyne, who ran the Texas region as Southwest vice president 15 years ago before his promotion to USPS’ chief information officer, is now retired in Irving. He told me, “Holding mail a day to process was always a no-no. ... Total elimination of overtime and intentionally leaving first-class mail behind was never an option. We never had that, and I worked there for 35 years.” Sorting machines Why would you remove and dismantle working sorting machines in the midst of all these other changes unless you wanted to bog down the system, maybe even make it harder for mail-in election ballots to reach their destination before deadlines? Aside from the people in the processing plants, mechanical sorters are the heart of mail delivery. Wonde of the postal workers union estimates that between Dallas’ Main Post Office near Interstate 30 and the North Texas Processing and Distribution Center in Coppell, a dozen sorting machines have been removed in recent weeks. “They didn’t give any specific reason for that,” he said. “I officially requested how many machines were removed and how many were decommissioned.” He hasn’t heard back. Wonde said workers tried to put one of the machines back in operation at the Dallas plant, but they were missing important parts. My test I mentioned my test. Until a few years ago, a first-class letter mailed within North Texas, from and to a local address and dropped off before 5 p.m., usually arrived the next day. Now USPS service standards allow for a letter mailed locally to arrive in two days instead of one. How’s that working? I took addresses for 50 Dallas Morning News employees who live in Dallas-Fort Worth. On Monday night, I mailed 50 envelopes to them from my city post office. I also emailed my lucky 50 to let them know they’d been drafted into my experiment. Under USPS standards, all letters should have arrived in two days — by Thursday’s mail. But more than half didn’t. Only 21 arrived on time — or 42%. That’s a failing grade. Five more arrived one day late on Friday. As of Saturday morning, as I complete this, I’ve yet to hear back about 24 others, or 48%. Admittedly, this is no scientific survey. But with half of the sent letters failing to meet the goal, it’s an indicator. (The Watchdog wants to check again during early voting.) Burgoyne, the retired former USPS vice president for Texas, added that when he was in management, “Election and political mail, including ballots, had the highest priority.” (We’ll see if that tradition holds.) Lewis of the letter carriers’ union says she worries about the cost of this mess to USPS’ reputation: “We don’t know if our customers lost confidence in us. It’s frightening.” If you desire a mail-in absentee ballot, contact your county elections office for information. You can also request one online. Requests for mail ballots must be made before Oct. 23. Make sure you fill out your ballot and send it back as soon as possible. To qualify, you must be 65 or older, disabled or out of your home county on Election Day. The last day to register to vote is Oct. 5. Twitter: @DaveLieber

[sohmariku]

RIKU’S RANDOM LIFE: THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF... AUTISM?

Yesterday  What do I need to do today? Finish decorating the Christmas tree? Reminds me, I still need to by a Christmas stall. But the kitchen really needs to be cleaned too. It’s also about time I finish the Winter set-up of my nendoroids. Crap, I absolutely need to vacuum the house today! Laundry can wait another day,...can it?

*Proceeds to watch another episode of Avatar: the Last Airbender*

Thankfully I’ve managed to cross out most of the tasks I had to do by today, but the Christmas tree still lacks decorations and my nendoroids are still disorderly shoved on the shelves. Maybe tomorrow...?

(I came to come to the conclusion I still have dry laundry hanging on the clothesline... I estimate it’s been up there for about a week now.)

While my mind is usually in a state of “semi-organised chaos”, the last couple weeks it’s mostly been “pure chaos”. Due to an overload of responsibilities, birthday parties and other holiday-celebrating occasions, I can’t seem to keep up with even the most basic tasks. 

In short, I’m mentally exhausted and need a break.

Last time I blamed my kitten for the lack of progress on any subtitles, but... I’ve come to the realization it’s been not just that. The seemingly never-ending string of social responsibilities has drained away all my energy... to the point I could barely be bothered to eat breakfast some days. Of course my dumb-ass mind was too tired to realize what was going on and... Hello Meltdown Yesterday. 

In hindsight, I really should have skipped that birthday dinner party, but my boyfriend was already guilt tripping me into going, before I even could mention I didn’t want to go. His father would be so happy if I’d be there, he said. Mind you, I had completely forgotten about that party until my boyfriend called around 4PM telling me he was on the way home, so we’d surely get to the restaurant in time. That day was supposed to be MY DAY OFF! Because I could feel I had reached my limit. Nope, that evening is gone! Though I was literally on the verge of crying, I decided to push through, because his parents feel they don’t see me around enough already and gotta keep them happy, sorta.

The effect showed immediately, because it took me two days to even realize I had forgotten my scarf at the restaurant! And I only noticed, because I couldn’t find it when I forced myself to do the grocery shopping I absolutely didn’t feel like doing, because I was still recovering from said dinner party. Of course, as the responsible adult I am, I didn’t call the restaurant, but instead texted my boyfriend “I think I might have forgotten my scarf at the restaurant!” and prayed he’d solve the problem without me literally needing to ask him to make the call for me. Because if there’s anything I hate more than making phone calls, I hate making phone calls to admit I’m an absolute airhead who forgot her scarf! Thankfully he fixed it without me needing to spell it out word for word. Got my scarf back. 

But really, this whole debacle really shows how on-edge I was that evening. I clearly remember thinking to myself “don’t forget your scarf” and then came the waiter who handed me a little rubber duck. (because apparently every female customer gets one) And boom, I became a happy little penguin with my rubber duck. It was all I could focus on ad when people started to leave, I quickly waddled outside (after saying some painfully awkward goodbyes to people I don’t actually know, but who do know me) and totally forgot about the scarf. Until days later! But yes, I got it back.

(To add to that, I lost that same scarf again today but in the Garden center, because I was too focused on a text conversation on my phone. Took me a lot of courage and agonizing to ask the staff if anyone had found it. They did, I got it back. Also, when doing some grocery shopping last week, I forgot my empty shopping bag at the cashier. I didn’t go back to ask if anyone found it. I could get a new one for only 58 eurocents after all. Anyway, notice a trend?) 

If that wasn’t enough. The worst part is probably, I know I’m not out of the woods yet. Choir practice on Friday (20), Christmas Market Choir performance on Sunday (22), Christmas Evening Church Mass with choir on Tuesday (24),Christmas with family (parents/siblings) on Wednesday (25), Christmas with extended family (grandparents/uncles/aunts/cousins) on Thursday (26)... 

Somewhere in between all that I need to find time to properly clean my whole house (which hasn’t happened in forever), because I’ll be the one hosting the Christmas gathering on the 26th (It’s way too late to back out now...) and my aunts are already judging me enough as it is.I don’t need them to think I’m living like a pig. (It’s the first time they’ll see my house, so they’ll be sticking their noses everywhere most likely...) My house isn’t dirty per se, but it could definitely be cleaner.

And when you think the “suffering” finally ends... my boyfriend has a compulsory day off from work (27). So, I won’t get a fully quiet day until Monday (30). My plans for New Year’s Eve (31) are still unclear. But then my boyfriend has another compulsory day off  on New Year’s (1) and he also decided to take Thursday (2) and Friday (3) off too. Now my grandmother’s birthday is on the 7th, but she might very well be celebrating it on the 4th or 5th. Or the weekend after that (11-12). Plus in either of those weekends my boyfriend’s parents very much want to go out for dinner with us too...

In short, that means I’m not expecting any “true” down-time until well into January... And just that thought alone is enough to drain away the last bit of energy I had left and dread the rest of the month. 

Always love the holiday season... //hear the sarcasm// 

If it was up to me I’d go into hibernation and wake up somewhere in January.

---

Note: Though I have no official diagnosis (and not sure if I’ll ever pursue one), in hindsight, I’m pretty clearly on the Autistic Spectrum. It’s only been a year ago since I really came to this realization, I’m apparently pretty good at masking, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. My autism affects a great deal of my life. For one, any social interaction requires a lot of energy. It’s worse if I’m meeting with a large group of people. And even if I’m not in the same room, having another person in the house will somehow keep me on edge to a certain extent. I’m well aware that full schedules are exhausting to everyone, but to me they are “extra” exhausting. For example, it can take 2 full weeks to fully recover from a gathering with extended family. And when I’m in recovery, it’s very hard to do anything productive on a day. As I’m writing this, it sounds insane. And it doesn’t always happen, but it does happen and that’s extremely inconvenient. 

This post became a lot longer than I expected, but I guess it’s good to finally talk about this? Though part of me is feeling really anxious about it. How dare I claim to be autistic without an official diagnosis? It’s silly. My life is all about silly worries. This is just one of them. The anxiety is real. >< Guess I’d better just post this already... and then regret it all night... have trouble to fall asleep... while I dread the reactions people might have. Yes, that’s how my mind works. By morning I’ll realize I had nothing to fear, I hope... O.O;;

By the way, congrats if you made it all the way to the end of my rambling!

[cindylouwho-2]

RECENT NEWS, RESOURCES & STUDIES, late February 2020

Welcome to my latest summary of recent ecommerce news, resources & studies including search, analytics, content marketing, social media & Etsy! This covers articles I came across since the early February report, although some may be older than that. I am a bit behind due to my trip last week and other events, but some things here are a bit time-sensitive so I wanted to release this now. 

I am still looking into setting up a new ecommerce business forum where we can discuss this sort of news, as well as any day-to-day issues we face. I need some good suggestions for a cheap or free forum space that has some editing tools, is fairly intuitive for inexperienced members, and is accessible. If you have any suggestions, please reply to this post, email me on my website, or send me a tweet. (I will put out a survey once we narrow this down to some good candidates, but if you have any other comments on what you want from such a forum, please include those too!)

As always, if you see any stories I might be interested in, please let me know!

TOP NEWS & ARTICLES 

Since we are seeing more shops closed due to Etsy’s customer service level standards, my blog post on ODR now has major revisions explaining what we have learned, and includes some tips for staying out of trouble and if necessary, appealing a suspension. Please circulate the info widely, as many sellers still haven’t heard about this, and some were closed without having any clue this was possible. 

Mobile continues to grow while desktop use is slowly shrinking. It should affect how we design web pages. “Mobile visitors also behave differently from their desktop web counterparts, staying on pages for shorter periods of time, for example.” Other interesting takeaways from this SimilarWeb report: “[Facebook] lost 8.6% of [web] traffic over the past year alone” but increased in app sessions. 

The price of domains ending in “.com” will almost certainly be going up soon, and will go up most years after that, unless something changes at the last minute. If you are absolutely certain that you will continue to use the same domain name for your website, blog, ecommerce forwarding etc., then you might consider paying a few years in advance to save a few bucks. 

Another article explaining how people are selling thrift store and vintage clothing on Instagram, without setting up a checkout/cart anywhere. (The article focusses on teenagers, but does reference other examples.)

ETSY NEWS 

Two weeks ago, Etsy Support posted on Twitter that they were no longer monitoring the account, and asked everyone to use the help page maze instead when they need support. Forum thread here.  

Another trend report for 2020 from Dayna Isom Johnson [podcast links & transcript] She leads off with tips on how to get featured: “ so it's incredibly important to see a bright representation that really clearly shows your product...Do be original. I'm always trying to find the latest and the greatest that isn’t already on the shelves...Do be inclusive. ... I'm talking about models of all ethnicities, all genders, all body types, all ages.” Etsy chose chartreuse as their colour of the year: “in the last three months, there's been a 12% increase in searches for green already, and a 55% increase in neon green.” The wedding trends part was mostly already covered in a blog post, but she does also answer a few seller questions. 

Website user experience (UX) is a big part of getting people to convert, and an outside group ranks Etsy’s as “acceptable”. Many will be unsurprised that search gets a score of “mediocre” and Accounts & Self-Service get a “poor” grade.  

The migration to Google Cloud services is complete, so now Etsy can run more experiments more often, including those involving AI. (Although the forum thread was laughing at the idea of bad reviews helping shops, there is actually some research supporting that, so it is a logical thing to test.)

Etsy sellers in the US, UK & Canada who use Instagram can apply to win a trip to Etsy HQ here, until March 1.

Etsy is launching an Etsy U program which just seems a bit sketchy. Forum thread here.

Reverb (owned by Etsy) named a new Chief Technology Officer on Feb. 18.

SEO: GOOGLE & OTHER SEARCH ENGINES 

Google does not confirm every large search update, so this one remains a mystery at the moment, since Google refused to give an answer. That means it’s not a core update. 

Another video (with subtitles in several languages) from the SEO for Beginners series from Google, on the basics you need for good website SEO. 

If you are interested in “searcher intent”, this 500 person survey asks about what people are really looking for, and what they think of the search results the end up with. Overwhelmingly, they say they prefer organic results to ads, and the majority see targeted ads that they can’t figure out the reason/s behind. “Sixty-eight percent responded that Google adding more ads to the search results would make them want to use the search engine less.” Also, a slight majority preferred text results to images, video, & audio. “When asked which factor had the most significant impact on their decision to click a result, 62.9% responded it was the description, followed by 24.2% who said the brand name, and 13% who said title.” That means that the first part of your Etsy listing description, or the coded meta description on a page on your website, has the most influence on people clicking on your link once they see it. 

I usually strongly suggest that people setting up their own websites make sure they do some SEO work & keyword research for their category/shop section pages, and it turns out that there is new research showing I am correct. “Specifically, e-commerce category pages – which include parent category, subcategory and product grid pages with faceted navigation – ranked for 19% more keywords on average than product detail pages ranked for. The additional keywords they ranked for drove an estimated 413% more traffic, based on the keywords’ search demand and the pages’ ranking position. With optimization, those ranking category pages also showed the potential to drive 32% more traffic.”

Semi-advanced: explaining the (seemingly endless) debate on whether subdomains or subdirectories are better for SEO. 

SEO study - do you really need to use H1 tags on a page? Maybe not, although some screen readers recognize them as the page title so they help with accessibility. (Etsy & many other marketplaces don’t let you make this coding choice, so don’t worry about it there.)

Confused about how to apply all of these SEO tips I post here to your Shopify site? Good news! Here’s a list of what is most important for Shopify SEO. Note the attention to setting up your category pages, which is something I completely agree with. (it’s by Ahrefs so of course it pushes their tools; you don’t need to pay for that.)

CONTENT MARKETING & SOCIAL MEDIA (includes blogging & emails) 

Some businesses say social media doesn’t work, but maybe they aren’t doing it right. See if you are making one or more of these three mistakes. “Understanding who your target audience is - what they want, what they need, where you fit in, etc. - is critical to maximizing your social media marketing performance.”

Email marketing also works better if you do it right, so here are 5 things you might be doing wrong. And if you like a quick read, here’s an infographic on the psychology of email marketing. 

8 ideas for getting more interactions on Facebook (detailed infographic).

More fourth quarter reports continue: Pinterest’s 4th quarter revenue was up 46% but they lost $1.36 billion, and they are introducing a verified merchant program. “Almost all (97%) of the top searches on Pinterest are unbranded, according to the company, giving merchants a chance to stand out.”

Want to tap into that Pinterest traffic? You should because “90% of weekly Pinterest users log in to make buying decisions.”  Here are 10 ways to get more attention, followers, and pins. 

Like almost all social media, Twitter has an algorithm that mediates what users see (although you can turn it off, or use apps such as Tweetdeck to get around it as a reader). Ranking factors include recency, engagement, media and activity. The article includes a few tips on how to make it work for you, but then slides into promoting its app as the solution - you can just skip that part. 

ONLINE ADVERTISING (SEARCH ENGINES, SOCIAL MEDIA, & OTHERS) 

Google search ads get more results than Facebook and Instagram, simply because more people who see them want to buy something. “Less expensive products tend to sell better than more expensive ones on Facebook and Instagram, per the study.”

If you are running ads where you can choose your keywords, don’t forget to examine your organic search results and impressions for new words to advertise. Google Search Console is a great source.

If you found Instagram ads too expensive, check out this post on how the ads are priced, which can help you make decisions on your spend. 

ECOMMERCE NEWS, IDEAS, TRENDS 

Amazon has nearly 40% of the US ecommerce market, according to a report by eMarketer. Etsy is not in the top 10; eBay is 3rd behind Walmart. 

Sales on Shopify sites during the Black Friday-Cyber Monday long weekend went up 61% to $3 billion in 2019. They claim that the “direct -to-consumer” approach can be successful for both big & small brands. 

Japanese authorities are going after Rakuten for the ecommerce company’s push to make its sellers offer free shipping. 

eCommerceBytes’ annual Sellers Choice survey placed eBay first out of the online marketplaces that were rate. Note that this is not a scientific survey and largely covers the site’s readership only. Bonanza was the most improved & Etsy showed the worst drop (from 1st to 5th place). 

A review of that article last month that says ecommerce sites should have info pages as well as product pages, if only for SEO reasons. The author approves. 

The CBC show Marketplace did a large test buying branded items on AliExpress, Amazon, eBay, Walmart and Wish. It turns out that most were fake. 

Facebook’s cryptocurrency plans (Libra) finally have a partner: Shopify. The potential benefits include no credit card processing fees. 

BUSINESS & CONSUMER STUDIES, STATS & REPORTS; SOCIOLOGY & PSYCHOLOGY, CUSTOMER SERVICE 

Younger people (think Gen Z) expect to see gender treated expansively and beyond traditional stereotypes, and they expect this from companies and advertising. “Half of women and four in 10 men in the U.S. now believe that there is a spectrum of gender identities, according to a recent Ipsos poll titled "The Future of Gender is Increasingly Nonbinary." An additional 16% of those surveyed said they know a person who identifies as transgender”

MISCELLANEOUS (including humour) 

Google employees are pushing back against the sea change in the company’s culture and values - and some are being fired. 

Turns out that the “Peleton Wife” ad might not have hurt them as much as you might think. However, their stock dropped 12% after the fourth quarter report showed a 77% increase in revenue that still managed to be below market predictions. Interesting discussion around going viral in a negative fashion.

[puppy-faggot]

PSA to anyone shopping at Party City or Halloween City

Gonna start by saying I was a former Party City manager. I don't care for the company. They exploited the shit outta me. However that doesn't mean I think customers should treat the employees like shit.

Firstly and importantly, BE PATIENT AND BE NICE. If you've worked in retail you've experienced Black Friday. You know how hectic that can be. Now imagine Black Friday but it lasts two months. Regular cashiers can't apply extra discounts or change prices. They need a manager. There's usually one or two up front but there's maybe four to seven counters open. So they have to come behind nearly every transaction to apply extra changes. For a lot of kids this is their first job. Don't be mean over a costume. Your patience is appreciated.

Second off, PLEASE LOOK UP THE COSTUME NUMBERS FOR THE COSTUME YOU WANT. Do you know how many variations of the same costume there are? Saying an Elsa costume is absolutely no help. It also makes things more difficult for the costume pickers in the back. By giving a number they can identify it through their numerical system. Just a vague character name would require for them to search through way too many boxes. And that's not including the size. Typically the online info on the costume gives you a rough estimate of how many of that particular costume, of that particular size supposedly exists. Theft is also common. Which fucks up the costume counts. Just go to partycity.com and do a bit of searching before hand. Also the popular costumes go very fast. If you show up on Halloween for a costume you won't be finding much.

Third, it's still a party supply store! There will be customers trying to celebrate other occasions. Balloon orders are a thing. People will be doing online pick ups for costumes, supplies, balloons etc. It will be a mad house. Balloon orders, especially on the weekends can take up two hours with all the numerous walk up and preorders. And they have to be down in-between customers. Which brings me back to the first thing I said. BE PATIENT AND BE NICE! They're doing their best.

Lastly, THE DEADLINE FOR RETURNS AND EXCHANGES IS TWO WEEKS BEFORE HALLOWEEN. Please! Please! Please! Understand this! It's one the front counter when you go up to it. The cashier is supposed to remind you. It makes things so much harder for everyone when you try to return something on Halloween Eve when everyone last minute buys their costumes and each has a claim that it was placed somewhere cheaper then the tag says. It's against policy to do the return after the deadline. I'm sure it reason I didn't get in trouble was because Halloween was my last day working there. It's frustrating. Just return it sooner. And please have your recipient, prior to the two week deadline, to do your return/exchange. They can only search previous purchases through your email/phone number or with your recipient. There's literally nothing else they can do about it.

There's more I want to add but these are the most important. I honestly had the worst time there due to the abuse from customers and being overworked and underpaid. My love of Halloween has been soured by my experience and by the nastiness of customers. Don't do that to someone else.

[bountyofbeads]

Shoot Them in the Legs, Trump Suggested: Inside His Border War https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/01/us/politics/trump-border-wars.html

Shoot Them in the Legs, Trump Suggested: Inside His Border War(Trump is nothing more than a thug and wannabe mobster. 🤢🤬🤬🤬)

By Michael D. Shear and Julie Hirschfeld Davis | Published Oct. 1, 2019 Updated 7:19 p.m. ET | New York Times | Posted October 1, 2019 |

WASHINGTON — The Oval Office meeting this past March began, as so many had, with President Trump fuming about migrants. But this time he had a solution. As White House advisers listened astonished, he ordered them to shut down the entire 2,000-mile border with Mexico — by noon the next day.

The advisers feared the president’s edict would trap American tourists in Mexico, strand children at schools on both sides of the border and create an economic meltdown in two countries. Yet they also knew how much the president’s zeal to stop immigration had sent him lurching for solutions, one more extreme than the next.

Privately, the president had often talked about fortifying a border wall with a water-filled trench, stocked with snakes or alligators, prompting aides to seek a cost estimate. He wanted the wall electrified, with spikes on top that could pierce human flesh. After publicly suggesting that soldiers shoot migrants if they threw rocks, the president backed off when his staff told him that was illegal. But later in a meeting, aides recalled, he suggested that they shoot migrants in the legs to slow them down. That’s not allowed either, they told him.

“The president was frustrated and I think he took that moment to hit the reset button,” said Thomas D. Homan, who had served as Mr. Trump’s acting director of Immigration and Customs Enforcement, recalling that week in March. “The president wanted it to be fixed quickly.”

Mr. Trump’s order to close the border was a decision point that touched off a frenzied week of presidential rages, round-the-clock staff panic and far more White House turmoil than was known at the time. By the end of the week, the seat-of-the-pants president had backed off his threat but had retaliated with the beginning of a purge of the aides who had tried to contain him.

Today, as Mr. Trump is surrounded by advisers less willing to stand up to him, his threat to seal off the country from a flood of immigrants remains active. “I have absolute power to shut down the border,” he said in an interview this summer with The New York Times.

This article is based on interviews with more than a dozen White House and administration officials directly involved in the events of that week in March. They were granted anonymity to describe sensitive conversations with the president and top officials in the government.

In the Oval Office that March afternoon, a 30-minute meeting extended to more than two hours as Mr. Trump’s team tried desperately to placate him.

“You are making me look like an idiot!” Mr. Trump shouted, adding in a profanity, as multiple officials in the room described it. “I ran on this. It’s my issue.”

Among those in the room were Kirstjen Nielsen, the homeland security secretary at the time; Mike Pompeo, the secretary of state; Kevin K. McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection chief at the time; and Stephen Miller, the White House aide who, more than anyone, had orchestrated Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda. Mick Mulvaney, the acting chief of staff was also there, along with Jared Kushner, the president’s son-in-law, and other senior staff.

Ms. Nielsen, a former aide to George W. Bush brought into the department by John F. Kelly, the president’s former chief of staff, was in a perilous position. She had always been viewed with suspicion by the president, who told aides she was “a Bushie,” and part of the “deep state” who once contributed to a group that supported Jeb Bush’s presidential campaign.

Mr. Trump had routinely berated Ms. Nielsen as ineffective and, worse — at least in his mind — not tough-looking enough. “Lou Dobbs hates you, Ann Coulter hates you, you’re making me look bad,” Mr. Trump would tell her, referring to the Fox Business Network host and the conservative commentator.

The happiest he had been with Ms. Nielsen was a few months earlier, when American border agents had fired tear gas into Mexico to try to stop migrants from crossing into the United States. Human rights organizations condemned the move, but Mr. Trump loved it. More often, though, she drew the president’s scorn.

That March day, he was furious at Mr. Pompeo, too, for having cut a deal with Mexico to allow the United States to reject some asylum seekers — a plan Mr. Trump said was clearly failing.

A complete shutdown of the border, Mr. Trump said, was the only way.

Ms. Nielsen had tried reasoning with the president on many occasions. When she stood up to him during a cabinet meeting the previous spring, he excoriated her and she almost resigned.

Now, she tried again to reason with him.

We can close the border, she told the president, but it’s not going to fix anything. People will still be permitted to claim asylum.

But Mr. Trump was unmoved. Even Mr. Kushner, who had developed relationships with Mexican officials and now sided with Ms. Nielsen, could not get through to him.

“All you care about is your friends in Mexico,” the president snapped, according to people in the room. “I’ve had it. I want it done at noon tomorrow.”

The Start of an Overhaul

The president’s advisers left the meeting in a near panic.

Every year more than $200 billion worth of American exports flow across the Mexican border. Closing it would wreak havoc on American farmers and automakers, among many others. Senator Mitch McConnell, Republican of Kentucky and the majority leader, said in an interview at the time that a border shutdown would have “a potentially catastrophic economic impact on our country.”

That night, White House advisers succeeded in convincing the president to give them a reprieve, but only for a week, until the following Friday. That gave them very little time to change the president’s mind.

They started by pressuring their Mexican counterparts to rapidly increase apprehensions of migrants. Mr. Kushner and others in the West Wing showered the president with emails proving that the Mexicans had already started apprehending more migrants before they could enter the United States.

White House advisers encouraged a stream of corporate executives, Republican lawmakers and officials from the U.S. Chamber of Commerce to tell Mr. Trump how damaging a border closure would be.

Mr. Miller, meanwhile, saw an opportunity.

It was his view that the president needed to completely overhaul the Homeland Security Department and get rid of senior officials who he believed were thwarting efforts to block immigrants. Although many were the president’s handpicked aides, Mr. Miller told him they had become part of the problem by constantly citing legal hurdles.

Ms. Nielsen, who regularly found herself telling Mr. Trump why he couldn’t have what he wanted, was an obvious target. When the president demanded “flat black” paint on his border wall, she said it would cost an additional $1 million per mile. When he ordered wall construction sped up, she said they needed permission from property owners. Take the land, Mr. Trump would say, and let them sue us.

When Ms. Nielsen tried to get him to focus on something other than the border, the president grew impatient. During a briefing on the need for new legal authority to take down drones, Mr. Trump cut her off midsentence.

“Kirstjen, you didn’t hear me the first time, honey,” Mr. Trump said, according to two people familiar with the conversation. “Shoot ’em down. Sweetheart, just shoot ’em out of the sky, O.K.?”

But the problem went deeper than Ms. Nielsen, Mr. Miller believed. L. Francis Cissna, the head of the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services until earlier this year, regularly pushed back on Mr. Miller’s demand for a “culture change” at the agency, where Mr. Miller believed asylum officers were bleeding hearts, too quick to extend protections to immigrants.

They needed to start with the opposite point of view, Mr. Miller told him, and start turning people away.

John Mitnick, the homeland security general counsel who often raised legal concerns about Mr. Trump’s immigration policies, was also on Mr. Miller’s blacklist. Mr. Miller had also turned against Ronald D. Vitiello, a top official at Customs and Border Protection whom the president had nominated to lead Immigration and Customs Enforcement.

By midweek, the campaign to change Mr. Trump’s mind about closing the border seemed to be working.

Maybe there’s another way to do this, the president told Ms. Nielsen. How about if I impose tariffs on the Mexicans, or threaten to impose tariffs? Tariffs are great.

But the staff worried that his retreat would only be temporary. The president never really let go of his obsessions.

They were right. On a trip to California late in the week, Mr. Trump turned to Mr. McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection chief, with a new idea: He wanted him to stop letting migrants cross the border at all, with no exceptions. If you get into any trouble for it, Mr. Trump told him, I’ll pardon you.

The Turning Point

Once on the ground, Mr. Trump met up with Ms. Nielsen and worked a room filled with Border Patrol agents. Start turning away migrants at the border, he told them. My message to you is, keep them all out, the president said. Every single one of them. The country is full.

After the president left the room, Mr. McAleenan told the agents to ignore the president. You absolutely do not have the authority to stop processing migrants altogether, he warned.

As she and her staff flew back to Washington that Friday evening, Ms. Nielsen called the president. She knew he was angry with her.

“Sir, I know you’re really frustrated,” she told him. The president invited her to meet with him on Sunday in the White House residence.

Ms. Nielsen knew that Miller wanted her out, so she spent the flight huddled with aides on a strategy for getting control of the border, a Hail Mary pass. She called it the “Six C��s” — Congress, Courts, Communications, Countries, Criminals, Cartels.

Unbeknown to her, Ms. Nielsen’s staff started work on her letter of resignation.

When Ms. Nielsen presented her plan to Mr. Trump at the White House, he dismissed it and told her what he really needed was a cement wall.

“Sir,” she said, “I literally don’t think that’s even possible.” They couldn’t build that now even if it would work, which it wouldn’t, Ms. Nielsen told him. The designs for steel barriers had long since been finalized, the contracts bid and signed.

The president responded that it was time for her to go, Mr. Trump recalled later. “Kirstjen, I want to make a change,” he said.

The president said he would wait a week to announce her resignation, to leave time for a transition. But before Ms. Nielsen had left the White House that day, the word was leaking out. By evening, Mr. Trump was tweeting about it.

“Secretary of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsen will be leaving her position,” Trump wrote, “and I would like to thank her for her service.”

The dismissal was a turning point for Mr. Trump’s immigration agenda, the start of the purge that ushered in a team that embraced Mr. Miller’s policies.

Mr. Trump quickly dismissed Claire M. Grady, the homeland security under secretary, and moved Mr. McAleenan to take Ms. Nielsen’s old job. Within two months, Mr. Cissna was out as well, replaced by Kenneth T. Cuccinelli II, a former Virginia attorney general and an immigration hard-liner.

On Aug. 12, Mr. Cuccinelli announced that the government would deny green cards for immigrants deemed likely to become “public charges.” Nine days later, Mr. McAleenan announced regulations to allow immigrant families to be detained indefinitely.

In the months since the purge, the president has repeated his threat of placing tariffs on Mexico to spur aggressive enforcement at the border. Mr. McAleenan and Mr. Cuccinelli have embraced restrictive asylum rules. And the Pentagon approved shifting $3.6 billion to build the wall.

Mr. Trump has continued to face resistance in the courts and public outrage about his immigration agenda. But the people who tried to restrain him have largely been replaced.

In the interview with The Times this past summer, Mr. Trump said he had seriously considered sealing the border during March, but acknowledged that doing so would have been “very severe.”

“The problem you have with the laws the way they are, we can have 100,000 of our soldiers standing up there — they can’t do a thing,” Mr. Trump said ruefully.

This article is adapted from “Border Wars: Inside Trump’s Assault on Immigration,” to be published by Simon & Schuster on Oct. 8.

[college-girl199328]

Via Rail passengers stranded on trains for over 18 hours amid winter storm | CTV News

Passengers on a number of stalled Via Rail trains say they have been on the vehicles for as long as 18 hours. They are few updates on when they will move forward.

Darcy Pyrell told CP24 that he boarded Via Rail train 55 from Ottawa to Toronto on Friday at around 3:30 p.m. The train stopped on the tracks near Cobourg at around 10:30 p.m. last night, he said.

“We were told then that it would be an hour before we might be able to start moving again,” Pyrell said.

It was still stationary as of 8:30 a.m. Saturday. “We were told it was because of a downed tree and we were told that one of the two trains stuck behind us was going to merge with our train to pull us along,” Pyrell said. “But we haven't seen that train come around. We haven't moved and a lot of people are thinking that they're being lied to by Via Rail. And we're really not sure what to do with ourselves right now.”

In a statement to CP24, Via Rail said that “due to extreme weather conditions” several trains in the Québec City-Windsor corridor have been immobilized or cancelled.

“From power outages to trees on the tracks and even a tree falling on a locomotive, conditions make it impossible to move some of our trains,” the company said. “Our first priority is the safety of our passengers and, although stopped, our trains are able to keep passengers warm and safe while on board.”

Canada's Minister of Transport Omar Alghabra has since taken to Twitter to call the situation with Via Rail unacceptable. This is because many passengers reported massive delays and cancelled trips due to a major winter storm.

Alghabra says the unprecedented weather has caused delays in Canada's transportation system and the safety of passengers and crew is a top priority.

Some passengers on Via Rail trains immobilized overnight en route to Toronto say they are being forced off trains in Oshawa ahead of their final destinations.

The lengthy delays come amid a winter storm that has gripped much of Canada, bringing snow, strong winds and bitterly cold temperatures.

Pyrell, a student at the University of Ottawa, said he was planning to be home in Guelph by now to spend the holidays with his family. However, he's not sure when he'll get there.

“The plan was to be home for a week to see my parents and see my family for the first time in a while. Of course that's going to be cut a touch short, unfortunately,” he said. “But what can you do? I guess.”

He said he packed himself a thermos of macaroni and cheese which he ate for dinner last night, but he hasn't eaten since.

“People are also handing out water right now. I think that's all we've got left on the train.”

He said the attendants he’s seen coming up and down the aisles appear “stressed beyond belief” and his fellow passengers are frustrated and angry that they haven't received any updates about the situation.

“One other passenger did call the police and an ambulance and they said that they could pick up anyone with immediate medical needs, like just anxiety issues or anything else,” Pyrell said.

Via Rail said that it has been in touch with the infrastructure owner and is “focused on keeping our customers as comfortable as possible in the current circumstances.”

The company was not able to provide an estimate for when the trains will begin moving, but said customers will be compensated.

“We, however, deeply apologize for this situation and the impact on our passengers and we are continuing to work with our teams and the infrastructure owner to either get those trains moving as quickly as possible or bring them to their final destination with the appropriate equipment. Passengers who are travelling on these trains will be provided with a full refund,” the company told CP24.

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 4

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

To see the version with art by Dara, check it out on Ao3.

Tag for all parts up so far.

A/N: Even more art in this chapter 'cause Dara is a gift.

***

“Oh, there you are. Did you absolutely have to sing in the shower?”

“I did not--”

“I could swear I heard a grito. Or were you just shrieking?”

“Well, if a certain someone hadn’t finished all the hot water…” Ernesto grumbles, causing Imelda - who personally turned off hot water the moment she and Héctor were out of the shower - to smirk.

“Serves you right for getting up last. And to think Héctor and I shower together to save water,” she says, causing Héctor to snicker over his breakfast.

“We’re very environmentally conscious,” he mutters through a mouthful, causing Ernesto to roll his eyes. “But the shower is pretty big. Maybe next time we can all save water and--”

“Absolutely not,” Imelda and Ernesto snap exactly at the same time, causing Héctor to recoil and lift his hands in surrender. Not that it stops either of them from speaking again.

“As much as I’d love to see her melt when water touches her--”

“It’s a miracle he even fits in it on his own, with that ego in the way,” Imelda cuts him off, and he glares at her. She supposes he means to be intimidating; he only comes across as the overgrown pouting child he is. She smirks, and pushes a plate towards him, a couple of tacos mañaneros in it. “Eat. You look like you need the energy to keep up.”

Several things happen in quick succession: Ernesto opens his mouth to retort only for his stomach to grumble loudly before he can utter a single word, Imelda’s smirk widens, and Héctor tries to disguise his laugh with a very unconvincing coughing fit. Ernesto scowls at both of them, but eventually he sits down and starts eating. Within minutes he’s talking about music through mouthfuls, about a producer they absolutely need to meet - he knows people who know him, he can get them in touch - and entirely ignoring Imelda… who, on the other hand, is ignoring him as well and checking her emails for new orders on her phone.

Héctor dutifully nods along with what Ernesto says, and promises he’ll be available whenever this Armando Abascal can meet them, but truth be told he’s only half-listening. What he’s really wondering, as his gaze moves back and forth between his wife and his best friend, is how much time should he let pass before he suggests another night together.

He’s not an idiot; he can tell that as much as they butt heads over everything, the central focus of it all - the thing that keeps Ernesto coming and Imelda letting it happen, the rope they’re both clutching while trying to win an unspoken tug war, the one person who binds them - is him.

They keep trying to outdo each other and, really, that works to Héctor’s advantage given everything that he gets out of it… but now he’s starting to wonder if that is actually the entire story. Maybe it is most of it, yes, but Héctor’s mind keeps going back to how relatively easy Imelda was to convince to invite Ernesto over again, and how quickly Ernesto had been to bend down on their bed again despite all his complaints.

As much as she rolls her eyes and as much as he protests, Héctor can tell they are enjoying the fuck out of this, pun intended. Or at least, they’re enjoying it far more than either is willing to admit. Héctor wonders, for the first time, what it may take to get them to say as much.

A lot, very likely: they are both stubborn and prideful, as much as they like to deny having anything in common. Making them admit something as simple as the fact they’re enjoying the challenge, or at the very least the sex, isn’t gonna be easy. But then again, if you want your life to be easy, you do not pick Ernesto as your best friend, and you do not marry Imelda. Héctor has done both, and regrets neither.

It’s time to up the game.

***

I bought a pair of boots last month, and it was my best purchase in years! They were custom-made to my measurements, fit perfectly form the first day and didn’t give me a single blister  as I trekked up a mountain. I cannot recommend these enough!

The review is followed by a smiley as well as a full five-star rating, and Imelda finds herself smiling back at it. Almost all the reviews are like that - the only exception are a few whining about late delivery caused by postage issues she had no control over, as she always mentions in the reply - but she’s always happy to see a new one, giving her credit for a job well done.

When the first glowing reviews began coming in, as well as the beginning of a steady flow of income, it took all of her willpower not to take screenshots and send everything to her parents, writing nothing but I told you so. She held back because she’s not that childish but oh, was she tempted. Told you so has always been one of her parents’ favorite sentences to utter.

Don’t take chances. Don’t attempt anything new. Follow our advice. Stay in your lane. Oh, you tried and failed? Well, we told you so.

Sometimes it was warranted - Óscar and Felipe’s attempt to build a homemade pressure cooker when they were eight was one such occasion - but a lot of the time it was unnecessarily smug and grated her nerves like nothing else. Getting to make things work despite their misgiving was always very, very satisfying.

Moving to Mexico City for a course in business management? They had supported her in the end, but not without a lot of stubborn silences, thinly veiled jabs and grumbling. But she stood her ground, and excelled; Imelda knows they’re proud… but she also knows that they are somehow disappointed for having been proven wrong, for never getting to tell her that they told her it was a bad idea.

Starting her own business, and online? It would never work, they told her, to many people already did the same. And making shoes the old way, to order? Who even does that anymore? Who would pay money for that when you can buy much cheaper shoes elsewhere?

But it did work; she's found herself a niche in the market and her business has grown to the point she now estimates that, in about a year’s time, she might very well think of looking into renting proper premises and employing a few people. Again, the told you so mantra failed to leave their lips, and they were proud of her. They usually are, despite everything.

And then she decided to marry Héctor which, of course caused friction. That too, according to them, was a bad idea. They didn’t dislike Héctor, whom they had seen from time to time when they played together as children; they knew that, while a troublemaker - that was usually Ernesto’s fault, but he had a way to evade all the blame somehow - he was a good kid who had grown into a good man.

When Héctor’s parents had died when he wasn’t yet seventeen - a gas leak, a spark, and they were both gone while their son was a couple of towns over for a gig - hers went to the funeral with her, after donating some money to help pay for it. Imelda has hazy memories of that bleak day, of Héctor standing alone before the coffins until Ernesto reached him and passed an arm around his shoulders. She remembers walking up to them, and squeezing Héctor’s hand, but she cannot recall what she told him.

The following year, both Ernesto and Héctor packed up quite suddenly and left for Mexico city to turn their passion for music into a proper career. Her parents had talked about it over the dinner table, expressed their sympathy for Héctor and wished him luck, and that was the last they'd said of him. Until their daughter moved to Mexico City, met him again, and began dating him. Until she had announced they were going to marry.

A musician, and with no steady job and no family behind him? They hadn’t liked that at all, questioning how he’d even be able to provide for her and pretending to have forgotten how her business was beginning to take off well enough to support them both in bad times if need be.

Óscar and Felipe supported her quite vocally - they always liked Héctor, who was a very willing guinea pig for some of their experimenting back when they were just children - and in the end, while grudgingly, her parents stopped arguing. They came to the wedding, were perfectly polite, but Imelda knew that they were waiting for the day that told you so would be warranted.

So far, it never was: Héctor always finds work. As much as Imelda doesn’t like to admit it, she knows that Ernesto - his used-car-salesman charm, his shameless self-advertising and the fooling around he calls networking - is the main reason why. Héctor has so much talent and plenty of charm of his own, but lacks the ambition and drive Ernesto has; that pendejo is the one who gets them most of the paid work and, for that, Imelda can tolerate him. Grudgingly.

Oh yes, Third Wheel Ernesto. What would your parents think of that development?

The thought makes her laugh aloud - oh God, they would flip if they knew  - and she doesn’t realize how loud she was until Héctor’s head peeks into the workshop. “Found another singing cat video, mi amor?”

Imelda rolls her eyes - it was one time she laughed to tears, just one time, can he stop bringing it up? - and turns from her laptop to glance at him. “I was thinking about Ernesto.”

Héctor raises his eyebrows. “What a coincidence. So was I.”

“Not that way.”

“I was thinking we could have him over next Friday.”

“No. I need at least another two weeks without seeing or hearing of that--”

“I have an idea,” Héctor cuts her off, and he’s grinning so widely she can’t help but be intrigued. When that expression appears on his face, she knows he’s thinking something really interesting. She leans back, folds her hands, and crosses one leg over the other.

“... You have two minutes to convince me.”

One minute later, Héctor is already sending out a text message.

***

“Do you really have to go already?”

Sitting on the bed with only the sheets around her, Luciana - or Lucia? He doesn’t remember and just refers to her with pet names to avoid trouble - is pouting. Ernesto kisses that pout.

“I have a meeting. I’d love to stay,” he lies, and follows it up with another lie. “I’ll call you.”

Another number to block, of course. She’s getting attached, he suspects, and Ernesto doesn’t like that, no señor. Best for both of them if he ends this here. Most of all, best for him. He’s a free man, no strings but those of his guitar, and he’d rather keep it that way.

Plus, last night wasn’t even fun. It usually is, with Lucia - or Luciana? - but this time it was… underwhelming. Not that he can pinpoint the reason; she did or said nothing out of the ordinary, and there was nothing wrong with the sex itself. It hasn’t exactly left him unsatisfied, but something was lacking and that gnaws at him in a way he cannot explain.

A few more reassurances, just enough time to throw his clothes back on, and Ernesto leaves the apartment, heaving out a long sigh of relief. He glances at a cab passing by, and digs into his pockets to pull out some change. Not nearly enough for a fare. He shrugs and gets walking towards the bus stop, putting the change back in his pocket - and feels his phone vibrating against his hand. A text from Héctor.

Come Friday at nine. You don’t want to miss this one.

***

"Red or white?"

"Black. You look good in black."

"All right, let me see..." Héctor lets out a hum and rummages in the closet, finally pulling back with some black lingerie in his hands. He unfolds it, glancing at the transparent skirt, and holds it up. "Is this mine or yours?"

"Yours. I'd need to walk in stilts to wear that one without tripping over the skirt."

"Or very high heels," Héctor mutters, glancing at Imelda. She's standing in front of her section of the closet, tapping her chin with a finger. She tilts her head towards him, and the braid falls from her shoulder down her back; Héctor has to ignore a sudden urge to undo it, and run his fingers through her hair.

"Is that a suggestion?" she asks, and Héctor grins.

"You look wonderful in heels."

"Aw, what a charmer."

"Plus, it's nice not having to bend over too much to kiss you."

"Aaaand you ruined it."

Héctor gives her his tried and tested Can't Be Mad At Me smile. It always works. "I'll make sure to kiss you plenty to make up for it. You still love me, right?"

Imelda laughs. "Against my better judgment," she says, and reaches in the closet to pull out some lingerie of her own - the red lacy one that never fails to drive Héctor loco. "This, with the red boots?"

"Sounds perfect."

"I get the feeling you'd say that no matter what I put on."

"You could just stay naked. You're perfect when you're naked."

Imelda's smile turns into a smirk. "Ah, but isn't it better when you get to unwrap me?"

That, of course, is a logic Héctor cannot possibly argue against. Trying to think of something else - anything that will keep him from thinking of the moment he'll get to unwrap her, because this isn't the right moment to get hard - Héctor turns away from her and begins putting on the lacy black lingerie... which, truth be told, was a nightmare to find his size. Maybe he is ridiculously tall, which is why he has so little lingerie of his own and mostly borrows from Imelda, when they feel like it.

Sometimes Héctor still has trouble believing what an amazing woman he had somehow managed to marry. Back when they had been dating just for a few weeks and were learning to know each other in ways they definitely hadn’t as kids, there were very few things about himself Héctor was afraid to talk about... his taste for crossdressing being one of them.

He knew plenty of people would find it ridiculous at best, and break up with him as soon as the confession was past his lips; the thought Imelda could do that - ridicule him and turn away - scared him more than words could say... but when he finally brought it up, his face hot as fire, there was no rejection nor mockery. Imelda had seemed intrigued, and - for the first time - she had told him about her taste for strap-ons, adding that she’d wondered if the mention of it would send him running for the hills. It had been his turn to be intrigued and soon enough they both ended up laughing, their faces bright red but relieved beyond belief, clasping each other's hand.

When they had met at her place the following week, Imelda surprised him with lingerie for them both. It was one very, very interesting evening; Héctor was delighted to find out that Imelda was as aroused as him. Crossdressing soon became normal - not something that happened every time, but often enough. It was exciting, and fun, and if made for some really nice pictures that they took great care to keep in a very, very safe place.  

Not long afterwards, they’d tried the strap on together for the first time and it had been more enjoyable than Héctor had dreamed it could be - so much so that he’d lasted… forty seconds, maybe. Likely something closer to thirty.

But practice makes perfect, and they had a lot of practice since.

“When is he going to show up?” Imelda speaks interrupting the reminiscence. She sounds suddenly annoyed, and Ernesto isn’t even there yet. It’s kind of a new record, but Héctor hopes they might begin to get along better, in time. It’s a project he’s actively working on.

Héctor glances at the clock on the wall, slipping on the lingerie and lacing it up. “I told him to come in about half a-” he starts, only to trail off when the doorbell rings. “... Well, there he is.”

“And there he stays.”

“Imelda.”

“He’s got to learn to take you seriously when you give him a set time,” she points out, frowning. Héctor wonders if she even realizes how beautiful she is like this, scantily dressed in red silk and laces as she puts on her boots, the braid falling over her shoulder. “He can’t come and go as he plea--”

Clack.

Imelda freezes. So does Héctor. She turns. He smiles innocently. “I, uh--”

“You gave him the spare key?”

“I figured it would be a good idea, in case one of us got locked out. I mean, he lives downstairs, and we have his spare key.”

Imelda scoffs, lacing up her boots. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, but Héctor knows she’s conceding the point. “And you go make it clear to him that he’s not supposed to use that key when he damn well pleases.”

“All right.”

“Use those exact words, or I will. Loudly.”

“Fine, fine,” he promises. Of course he doesn’t use those exact words, even even if he did, they would be wasted. The moment Héctor shows up in the living room, Ernesto’s jaw very nearly drops - and so does the bottle of wine in his hands, really, but he manages to catch himself just on time before it slips from his fingers and crashes on the floor.

That would definitely put Imelda in a bad mood.

“You’re early, amigo. How much cologne did you put on?” Héctor asks, tilting his head on one side in the most nonchalant way possible - like he’s fully clothed and they’re having a chat over a drink.

“I… a dash,” Ernesto mutters, gaze running across him, and he swallows.

Héctor raises an eyebrow in doubt.

“All right, maybe two. I… I brought… I… are those earrings?”

“Clip-on ones, no worries. No one had to be subjected to the sight of yours truly crying before a needle. Unlike that poor tattoo artist in Oaxaca who saw you jumping five feet in the air the second the needle touched your skin,” he adds. That is a little story that never fails to make Ernesto defensive, and it doesn’t fail now either.

“I just… I changed my mind, all right? I realized that defacing my skin was a stupid idea.”

“Of course. Was that why you were also holding my hand?”

“I was not--” Ernesto starts, but suddenly there is the clicking of high heels on hardwood floor, and his gaze goes past Héctor, to the door. He doesn’t turn to look, but he can tell the exact moment Imelda stands in the doorway from the way Ernesto’s eyes go wide, and his jaw slack. His brain seems to have crashed and, really, Héctor cannot blame him.

“Oh, there you are,” Imelda says, and walks up to Héctor. She leans on him, and taps her lower lip with a finger as she glances at Ernesto. “You’re awfully overdressed.”

That causes him to recoil, as though snapped out of a trance. The look on his face goes from the personification of a blue screen of death to sudden, clear awkwardness.

“I, er…” he starts, and swallows, his gaze moving back and forth between them. His skin is flushed, and he tugs at the collar of his white shirt. “I thought we. Dinner. First,” he manages.

Ernesto.exe is not working. Please restart.

The thought almost makes Héctor laugh, but he manages to hold back, allowing himself just the smallest quirk of his lips as Imelda shrugs and walks up to Ernesto - who almost, almost steps back… but does not. He just stays still, transfixed, as Imelda reaches to toy with the upper button of his shirt.  

“Later. First, let’s get this off you,” she says, her voice soft, and tilts up his head to look at him in the eye, a hand reaching to cup his cheek. Normally, Héctor would expect his best friend to smell the trap from a mile away. Now, however, he's not at all surprised when stares at her and, slowly, he smirks. Look at him, Héctor muses, thinking he knows what’s ahead.

Ay, mi amigo, you won’t see this coming.

He somehow manages to stay serious as Imelda pulls her hand away from Ernesto’s face. Ernesto lifts his own free hand as though to catch it, but he stops himself just on time; Imelda doesn’t seem to notice, and takes the bottle of wine from Ernesto’s limp fingers.

“A good choice,” she practically purrs. “I’ll get the glasses. Héctor, would you be so kind to get him ready?”

Héctor smiles and holds out his hand, gesturing for Ernesto to follow, and he does.

Oh, he's definitely getting the wrong idea of where this is going.

***

Ernesto is very much enjoying the way things are going.

It’s not something he’s ever going to admit aloud, of course, but the fact stays that this is finally taking the direction he wanted - with Héctor and Imelda entirely focused on what mattered. Namely, on him. Oh yes, Ernesto can get used to this.

He was slightly disappointed when Héctor slapped his hands away on the way to the bedroom, but very much willing to let himself be undressed down to his underwear. He was already getting hard and he expected Héctor to get rid of his boxers, too, but he had not. Instead he'd pushed him on the bed, straddled him, and kissed him deeply.

On the mouth.

That caused his mind to go blank for a moment, because despite everything that has happened - the kisses Héctor had dropped on his shoulder and neck and face, the fact Ernesto gave him, all humbleness aside, the best blowjob a man could ask for - a kiss on the mouth was something that had just never happened before between them.

Taken aback, he found himself letting Héctor lead; it was slow and thorough, and entirely too brief. All too soon, Héctor pulled back and grinned down at him. Ernesto opened his mouth to protest, or demand more, but he placed two fingers on his lips and gave him a look that made words die in his throat. His eyes roamed across on his body, on the silk and laces on him and, in that moment, he could have let him do anything.

Which includes, apparently, tying his arms to the bedpost with silk scarves.

“Try to break free,” Héctor tells him. He does, and he can’t. To be fair, it's not like he tried with all his might; he's a pretty strong guy, so of course he could break free if he really wanted to... but for now, he'll play along.

"Good knots," he says, and tries to catch Héctor’s mouth again, only to miss when he pulls back to turn to the door.

Ernesto follows his gaze and there’s Imelda, carrying two long-stemmed glasses of red wine in one hand and a third in the other. She looks down at him, tilting her head on one side, and Ernesto has to make a conscious effort not to squirm when her gaze pauses on his groin.

He’s painfully hard and, he knows, his boxer shorts are doing absolutely nothing to hide it. Suddenly very much aware of how helpless he is, he braces himself for the calm expression to turn into a mocking smirk… but it doesn’t. She just hands two of the glasses to Héctor, and smiles.

“He might need help to drink,” she says, and looks back down at him, calmly sipping her wine.

What game is she playing?

The thought makes it briefly to Ernesto’s mind, but he chases it away before it can fully form - because thinking that would mean that deep down he knew something was up, and that would open up the very annoying possibility that he’d willed himself to ignore it to go along with... whatever Imelda is planning.

If she’s planning something, of course. Which she isn’t, or else like hell he’d have handed over control like that. Ernesto wills himself to believe as much, and turns his attention on Héctor - who has put down one glass and is holding the other in one hand, the other on the back of his head to support it.

“Salud,” Héctor says with a grin, and brings the glass to Ernesto’s mouth. Impatient as he is to get things going, he drinks in slow gulps. It’s good wine, if he says so himself - and he does say so; he picked it, after all - so there is no reason to make it go to waste. Once the glass is empty, Héctor pulls it away. A few drops fall on Ernesto’s collarbone, and before he can even protest Héctor lowers is head and suckles at his skin where the drops fell, causing Ernesto - who now he feels pleasantly warm as well as desperately aroused - to shiver.

He tosses back his head, and his gaze finds Imelda, who’s almost finished his own wine and is staring at him, her expression unreadable.

“Good choice,” Héctor chuckles, and takes the glass he left by the table - guzzling it down way too fast, but Ernesto really doesn’t give a damn whether he properly tastes it; there is one thing he wants Héctor to taste now, and it’s not the damn wine.

The empty glass is placed back, and Héctor is grinning more widely. The next moment he’s back on the bed, crawling towards him, and then he’s reaching to brush back Ernesto’s hair, humming. “Looking good,” he mumbles, and something seems to leap in Ernesto’s chest. Héctor is smiling, Imelda is towering over him, and he has a few moments to savor, once again, their full attention… until they turn to glance at each other, smirk, and are suddenly a few steps away from the bed, in each other’s arms. What the…?

“Hey!” Ernesto calls out in protest, or at least he tries to; all that leaves his mouth is a choked-out noise. He tugs at his bounds, but the knots don’t give in at all - Imelda’s fault, surely, who else may have taught him to tie knots? With a snarl, Ernesto glares furiously at them as they lock lips, hands all over each other. “Seriously? Untie me!”

“Oh, we could do that,” Imelda says, turning to glance at him. She’s leaning her head against Héctor’s chest, and traces abstract patterns over it as she speaks again. Her voice is silk-covered steel. “We could untie you, and you can go home. Or you can stay put, and if you behave you get a reward later. Your choice.”

Ernesto opens his mouth to snap at her to go ahead and untie him, but then Héctor moves to kiss her neck, and words die in his throat. For several moments he can only watch them with wide eyes because oh, they are a sight to behold, heat is pooling in his groin and his cock is so hard it hurts.

“I…” is all he manages in the end, and nothing more. Imelda smirks.

“A rare good choice from you,” she says, and Ernesto wants to hit her, wants to scream, wants to fuck her, and he can do none of those things. He scoffs, and turns away. Fine, so they can tie him up, but they can’t make him watch, and so he won’t. He won’t play along, won’t even steal a glance. He shuts his eyes, and keeps them shut.

For two whole minutes.

***

By the time the last bit fabric hits the ground - once they’ve done unwrapping each other like you do with a gift, as Imelda would put it - Héctor is desperately hard, Imelda is soaking wet… and, unsurprisingly, Ernesto is beyond frustrated.

“Are you always this slow? I think I’m about to fall asleep.”

The moan leaving Imelda as Héctor nips at her breasts turns into a scoff halfway through. She turns to glance at Ernesto, an eyebrow raised. “Are you? There seems to be a small part of you that is still very much awake.”

Ernesto glares at her, and bends his knees to try hiding the very obvious bulge in his underwear. Not that he can hide his flushed skin, or the marks on his wrists from pulling so hard at his restraints. He shifts his gaze on Héctor and his expression turns mocking. “You know, if it were me in your place, your wife would already have forgotten how to talk at this point.”

That annoys Imelda enough to pull away from Héctor. “Another sound from you, and I’ll stick a gag in that stupid mouth,” she warns, crossing her arms over her heaving chest.

Ernesto sputters. “You wouldn’t!”

“One more word, and I will,” she hisses. She is beautiful like this, hair undone and eyes flashing, and her tone makes it clear that she means every word.  Ernesto can see that, too, and he goes quiet for a moment… then there is a flash of something in his eyes that Héctor cannot quite pinpoint, there one moment and gone the next, a bolt of lighting against Imelda’s steady fire.

Then, Ernesto sneers. “You wouldn’t,” he repeats, and that’s it. Next thing Héctor knows, Imelda is at the dresser and the ball gag is in her hand. Ernesto has just enough time to sputter again before said ball gag is shoved in his mouth, the strap fastened behind his head. That causes him to give a noise like that of an angry ox, and to shake his head furiously, but of course it isn’t enough to dislodge it.

Imelda grasps his hair, and forces his head back so that he’ll look at her face; he stares at her with wide eyes before he catches himself and glares. She responds with a smile. "I like you best with your mouth busy,” she says, and her free hand reaches down to palm him through the boxer shorts. The glare immediately fades, and buckles into her touch one moment before she pulls her hand away, causing him to whine in the back of his throat. The grip on his hair slackens, and she ruffles it.

“Behave, and Héctor will take care of that,” she says, giving his erection one last pat before she stands and, without another word, she’s in Héctor’s arms again.

They fuck against the wall, with Imelda clinging to him, scratching his back and biting bruises on his neck and shoulder. Even in the midst of it all - skin on skin, his wife’s body so welcoming and warm, the scent of her hair in his nostrils and oh God he’s not going to last much longer - Héctor knows, with utmost certainty, that Imelda is looking straight at Ernesto over his shoulder... and that he’s glaring back.

He loves them both but ay, sometimes they can be so predictable.

***

[Back to Part 3]

[On to Part 5]

[newstfionline]

Headlines

With Washington Deadlocked on Aid, States Face Dire Fiscal Crises (NYT) Alaska chopped resources for public broadcasting. New York City gutted a nascent composting program that could have kept tons of food waste out of landfills. New Jersey postponed property-tax relief payments. Prisoners in Florida will continue to swelter in their cells, because plans to air-condition its prisons are on hold. Many states have already cut planned raises for teachers. And that’s just the start. Across the nation, states and cities have made an array of fiscal maneuvers to stay solvent and are planning more in case Congress can’t agree on a fiscal relief package after the August recess. House Democrats included nearly $1 trillion in state and local aid in the relief bill they passed in May, but the Senate majority leader, Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, has said he doesn’t want to hand out a “blank check” to pay for what he considers fiscal mismanagement, including the enormous public-pension obligations some states have accrued. There has been little movement in that stalemate lately.

As California burns, the winds arrive and the lights go out (AP) New wildfires ravaged bone-dry California during a scorching Labor Day weekend that saw a dramatic airlift of more than 200 people trapped by flames and ended with the state’s largest utility turning off power to 172,000 customers to try to prevent its power lines and other equipment from sparking more fires. California is heading into what traditionally is the teeth of the wildfire season, and already it has set a record with 2 million acres burned this year. The previous record was set just two years ago and included the deadliest wildfire in state history—the Camp Fire that swept through the community of Paradise and killed 85 people. That fire was started by Pacific Gas & Electric power lines. Liability from billions of dollars in claims from that and other fires forced the utility to seek bankruptcy protection. To guard against new wildfires and new liability, PG&E last year began preemptive power shutoffs when conditions are exceptionally dangerous. That’s the situation now in Northern California, where high and dry winds are expected until Wednesday.

Unhealthy eating and the poor (Bloomberg) It’s no secret that the cheapest food in the western world is often the stuff that’s worst for you: fast meals and ultra-processed food, usually loaded with salt, fat and sugar. For the poorest, it’s typically what they can afford, and that’s only grown more acute during the coronavirus pandemic. Unhealthy diets are poised to worsen the obesity problem all over the world, contributing to a “global pandemic in its own right,” the UN’s Food & Agriculture Organization said in July. Healthy and nutritious food has already been out of reach for more than 3 billion people. With economies sinking and unemployment at historic highs, millions more will find themselves trying to balance their budgets with the need for vital portions of fresh fruit, vegetables and proteins.

Facial recognition failure (OneZero) A new report from the Government Accountability Office of the federal government found that the Customs and Border Patrol was doing a bad job of alerting the public when facial recognition was being used on them, hiding the clear, legible signs disclosing this and describing how to opt out behind larger signs. It’s also not entirely clear that the enormous investment put into this tech is genuinely useful, as the report also found that of the 16 million passengers arriving in the U.S. through May 2020 that the CBP scanned in airports, they resulted in stopping 7 imposters.

At Least 37 Million People Have Been Displaced by America’s War on Terror (NYT) At least 37 million people have been displaced as a direct result of the wars fought by the United States since Sept. 11, 2001, according to a new report from Brown University’s Costs of War project. That figure exceeds those displaced by conflict since 1900, the authors say, with the exception of World War II. The findings were published on Tuesday, weeks before the United States enters its 20th year of fighting the war on terror, which began with the invasion of Afghanistan on Oct. 7, 2001; yet, the report says it is the first time the number of people displaced by U.S. military involvement during this period has been calculated. The findings come at a time when the United States and other Western countries have become increasingly opposed to welcoming refugees, as anti-migrant fears bolster favor for closed-border policies. The report accounts for the number of people, mostly civilians, displaced in and from Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia, the Philippines, Libya and Syria, where fighting has been the most significant, and says the figure is a conservative estimate—the real number may range from 48 million to 59 million. The calculation does not include the millions of other people who have been displaced in countries with smaller U.S. counterterrorism operations, according to the report, including those in Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Chad, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mali and Niger.

Will the U.K. Crash Out of the EU? (Foreign Policy) U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson has set a deadline of Oct. 15 for the United Kingdom’s talks with the European Union as the latest round of negotiations gets underway today to determine the post-Brexit EU-U.K. economic relationship, again raising concerns that the United Kingdom could crash out of the bloc without a deal in place. The announcement comes as the British government is working to push legislation through Parliament that would override key parts of last year’s Brexit withdrawal agreement. The Financial Times reported on Sunday that the so-called internal market bill is expected to remove the legal force of the highly contentious Northern Ireland protocol, which observers have long argued is vital to preserving peace and stability in Ireland after Brexit. Economists have consistently warned that the economic impact of a no-deal Brexit could be severe. On Monday, business leaders in Britain doubled-down on those warnings, telling Johnson that securing a Brexit deal was essential for the United Kingdom’s economic recovery following the coronavirus pandemic.

‘We are in the second wave’: Europe on edge as cases spike (NBC News) Cases of the coronavirus are spiking in France, Spain and the United Kingdom even as social distancing restrictions ease, stoking concerns among doctors and policymakers about a “second wave” in countries still reeling from the pandemic’s first wave. France set a new record Friday after health authorities reported 8,975 new cases, far higher than the previous record of 7,578 the country set March 31 at the height of the pandemic. In the U.K., new infections soared to nearly 3,000 in one day—the country’s biggest jump since May. And Spain saw nearly 9,000 cases Thursday. Unlike the pandemic’s punishing first round in the spring, France’s troubling rise in new cases has yet to cause a significant surge in deaths and hospitalizations, a salutary statistic for policymakers who remain determined to press ahead with reopenings of schools and businesses.

Belarus activist resists authorities’ push to leave country (AP) A leading opposition activist in Belarus was held on the border Tuesday after she resisted authorities’ attempt to force her to leave the country. Maria Kolesnikova, a member of the Coordination Council created by the opposition to facilitate talks with longtime leader President Alexander Lukashenko on a transition of power, was detained Monday in the capital, Minsk, along with two other council members. Early Tuesday, they were driven to the Ukrainian border, where the authorities told them to cross into Ukraine. Kolesnikova refused, and remained on the Belarusian side of the border in the custody of the Belarusian authorities. The authorities have applied similar tactics to other opposition figures, seeking to end a month of demonstrations against the re-election of Lukashenko in a vote the protesters see as rigged. Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, the main opposition challenger to Lukashenko, left for Lithuania a day after the Aug. 9 vote, under pressure from the authorities.

Myanmar army deserters confirm atrocities against Rohingya (AP) Two soldiers who deserted from Myanmar’s army have testified on video that they were instructed by commanding officers to “shoot all that you see and that you hear” in villages where minority Rohingya Muslims lived, a human rights group said Tuesday. The comments appear to be the first public confession by soldiers of involvement in army-directed massacres, rape and other crimes against Rohingya in the Buddhist-majority country, and the group Fortify Rights suggested they could provide important evidence for an ongoing investigation by the International Criminal Court. More than 700,000 Rohingya have fled Myanmar to neighboring Bangladesh since August 2017 to escape what Myanmar’s military called a clearance campaign following an attack by a Rohingya insurgent group in Rakhine state. Myanmar’s government has denied accusations that security forces committed mass rapes and killings and burned thousands of homes.

Australia evacuates journalists from China amid ‘national security’ probe (Reuters) Two Australian foreign correspondents were rushed out of China for their safety with the help of Australian consular officials after being questioned by China’s Ministry of State Security, their employers said on Tuesday. China correspondents for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) and the Australian Financial Review (AFR) sought shelter in Australia’s embassy in Beijing and consulate in Shanghai as diplomats negotiated with Chinese officials to allow them to leave the country, the ABC and the AFR reported. The two journalists—the ABC’s Bill Birtles and the AFR’s Michael Smith—had been banned from leaving China until they answered questions about detained Australian citizen and television anchor Cheng Lei, the media companies reported. Both journalists were told they were “persons of interest” in an investigation into Cheng, a high-profile business anchor on Chinese state television, who was detained by authorities in August, the AFR report said. The president of Australia’s Media Entertainment and Arts Alliance, Marcus Strom, said the treatment of the Australian journalists by Chinese authorities was “appalling”.

Kiwi expats (BBC) Approximately 50,000 New Zealanders have returned from abroad since the beginning of the year. Behind Ireland alone, New Zealand has the second-highest proportion of its citizens living abroad, with between 600,000 and a million New Zealanders living abroad compared to a population of 5 million people in the country itself. Many are in Australia, where they can work without a visa, but others go to other countries further off for work or school. A University of Auckland sociologist estimated 100,000 could return depending on how long the pandemic lasts

Syria wants more Russian help (Foreign Policy) Syrian President Bashar al-Assad said he wants to expand his country’s economic and business ties to Russia as a way of bypassing crippling U.S. sanctions during talks with Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov on Monday. Lavrov hinted that Russia was prepared to come to Assad’s aid, noting during a subsequent press conference that Syria needed international assistance to help rebuild its economy now that Assad is in control of most of the territory he lost during the country’s brutal civil war. The meeting was Lavrov’s first visit to the country since 2012, demonstrating Moscow’s continued interest in Syria after providing Assad with critical military support throughout the civil war.

Jordan resumes regular commercial flights after six-month halt during pandemic (Reuters) Jordan resumed regular international flights on Tuesday after being suspended for nearly six months because of the novel coronavirus epidemic, officials said. They said Queen Alia international airport would initially handle six flights a day before expanding to ensure that airport authorities can enforce strict social distancing and other health rules.

Virus puts new strain on Gaza’s overwhelmed health system (AP) Dr. Ahmed el-Rabii spent years treating Palestinians wounded by Israeli fire during wars and clashes in the Gaza Strip. Now that the coronavirus has reached the blockaded territory, the 37-year-old physician finds himself in the unfamiliar role of patient. El-Rabii is the first Gaza doctor diagnosed with COVID-19 and is among dozens of health-care workers infected during the local outbreak, which was detected late last month. The spread among front-line workers has further strained an already overburdened health-care system. Since 2007, Gaza has been under an Israeli-Egyptian blockade meant to isolate Hamas, the Islamic militant group that seized control of the territory that year from the internationally recognized Palestinian Authority. Few people can move in and out of the territory, and Hamas placed anyone returning to Gaza into mandatory quarantine centers for three weeks. Before last month, the handful of Gaza’s coronavirus cases were confined to the isolation facilities. But on Aug. 24, the first cases were detected among the general population, and the numbers have multiplied since.

When will tourists return to Africa? (AP) Africa will lose between $53 billion and $120 billion in contributions to its GDP in 2020 because of the crash in tourism, the World Travel and Tourism Council estimates. Kenya expects at least a 60% drop in tourism revenue this year. South Africa a 75% drop. In South Africa, 1.2 million tourism-related jobs are already impacted, according to its Tourism Business Council. That’s not far off 10% of total jobs in Africa’s most developed economy and the total damage isn’t yet clear. “Devastation,” council CEO Tshifhiwa Tshivhengwa said. South Africa’s borders, including virtually all international flights, have been closed for nearly six months and there are no signs of them reopening.

[brandongunte1r]

She had no way to move but with the river.

Livingston Parish, one of the hardest hit areas with about 138,000 people, an official estimated that 75 percent of the homes were a total loss.. She rubbed her fingers through the dirt, and grabbed a handful of grass to wipe between her legs. From here he could see four lesser pyramids, the city’s western walls, and the camps of the Yunkishmen by the shores of Slaver’s Bay, where a thick column of greasy smoke twisted upward like some monstrous serpent. FS1 will provide coverage of Friday and Saturday qualifying and Sunday eliminations for each NHRA Mello Yello Series event, with a minimum of 16 Sunday eliminations shows to be presented in a live coverage format, and the remainder shown either in weekend afternoon or primetime time slots.. She had no way to move but with the river. "It's the only pair in your size. We think he is a tremendous player who is only going to get better. An acquaintance of the writer was married to a gentleman in Louisiana, who was the proprietor of some eight hundred slaves. Another turned his cup over to wash away a finger of blood before it reached the place where he was seated. A safe place, beyond my sister’s reach.”. AOL Autos: How to choose an auto repair shop. Hello! Sorry this is late coming up, I had lots to do today! And assorted computer trouble didn help either

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But, as promised but late, a review of the costumes winning in the cosplay/costume contest for Otakon. Other people moving:Rod Perth to president exec VP of programming, USA Networks Entertainment, New York, from senior VP of late night and

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[covid19updater]

COVID19 Updates: 08/21/2021

UK:  Army supporting ambulance services in England LINK

RUMINT (US):  Walmart and Covid experience has been a popular topic, so I had one today I thought I would relate. I went to Walmart this afternoon to purchase office supplies and a few food products. With self-check out I should have been out in ten minutes. It was about four-thirty when I completed my purchases. When I got up to the self-check out area, there was a line eight deep. There was only five spots open for the public to do the work of the Walmart employee. Many self-check out lines were closed. This line was during a pandemic when logically you would want people to check out quickly and leave. True, it was during a peak time, but that is why you have management and peak planning decisions made. I was not a happy customer. I finally got to a register, and checked out. I then went politely up to the door monitor and told her they needed to open more registers or check-out lanes. Then, she made the classic comment, "No one wants to work, we are short-staffed." Well, Walmart has instituted the policy that all workers must be vaxxed. That is probably part of the problem. Even for eleven dollars a hour I would not want to play Russian Roulette with the vax reactions. I look for this to be happening a lot more as people choose not to take the vax and leave their employment. It could really be impactful and not in a good way in the health care industry as more people come down with the Delta variant ant the vax mandates are pushed.

California:  Los Angeles County passes 25,000 COVID-19 deaths as new mask rules aim to slow spread LINK

World:  Not sure who is trying to ram FDA approval through early, because these prestigious outlets aren’t naming names, but the federal clinical trials website estimates that the clinical study of the Pfizer shot won’t even be complete until May 2, 2023. LINK

UK:  47008 'delta' cases in the 2x vaxxed: 402 deaths, 0.86% chance of death 215837 delta across ALL vaxxed: 481 deaths, 0.22% chance of death 151054 delta in UNVAXXED: 254 deaths, 0.17% chance of death 0.22% vs 0.86% 291% higher increase in vaxxed people.

UK:  Adverse events reported to IPC during the last 2 weeks: 317 new reports. Among them: 55 deaths including 28 after jab #3, 3 after jab#2 bellow 40 yo. 39 Neurological issues. 63 Cardiac issues including 8 under 40 yo, 7 after jab #3

India:  India gives emergency approval for world’s first COVID-19 DNA jab LINK

World:  Long-haul COVID: How grassroots online movement Survivor Corps helps those facing lingering symptoms LINK

Arkansas:  Northwest Arkansas hospitals reach all-time high in ICU bed usage LINK

Tennessee:  BREAKING: An absolutely stunning 2,106 new #COVID19 cases reported today among Tennessee's school-age children. For our kids, this is the worst moment of the pandemic.

China:  One positive #COVID19 case has been confirmed in Jingmen, central Hubei Province. The person tested negative nine times previously.

Florida:  BREAKING Florida Huge dump of new cases (55,751 cases reported for today & tomorrow: new record for 1 or both days). Huge dump of deaths (415 more than yesterday;1,486 more than last Friday). Positive rate UP to 19.8% from reported 19.3%.

US:  BREAKING: U.S. reporting 1,000 coronavirus deaths a day on average, highest since March

US:  U.S. COVID update: More than 1,000 new deaths for 4th day in a row - New cases: 182,035 - Average: 149,456 (+4,054) - In hospital: 93,590 (+678) - In ICU: 23,043 (+156) - New deaths: 1,485

World:  .@ScottGottliebMD says vaccinated people must remain cautious as the contagious delta Covid variant spreads LINK

US:  U.S. probing Moderna vaccine for higher heart inflammation risk - Washington Post

UK:  Covid19 and sport: Government data shows mass participation events can happen safely LINK (Propaganda...)

Louisiana:  Louisiana’s Governor says there have been more COVID cases reported by Louisiana schools - during the first week of the school year - than were reported in ANY week of last school year.

Florida:  Florida Education Commissioner Richard Corcoran says the state will withhold state funds from Broward and Alachua public schools, targeting school officials compensation, as a result of them violating Gov. Ron DeSantis' mask orders.

Israel:  74% of 70 - 79 year olds in Israel have ALREADY received the Pfizer booster shot (3rd dose). There are early signals of effect. But we should see a meaningful decline in serious cases by next week if this strategy works. (LOL)

Tennessee:  Hospitals, health care systems pen letter to unvaccinated Tennesseans; 'beg' them to get vaccinated LINK

RUMINT (NYC):  For people across the US, when you go to the doctors office or medical clinic are the staff and doctors wearing N95s and KN95s? In NYC it seems like most doctors and staff are just wearing loose surgical masks. Wondering if other cities it’s the same?

World:  WHO today issued an open call for experts to serve as members of the new WHO Scientific Advisory Group for the Origins of Novel Pathogens (SAGO)

UK:  The latest UK PHE Technical Briefing has just been published, and it shows that the vaccine breakthrough rate for Delta infections in the UK continues to increase by about 6% per month. The curious conundrum of the fully vaccinated being more likely to die of a Delta infection than the unvaccinated also continues. Links to the relevant PHE Technical Briefing papers are given.  Breakthru rates: End of May = 3% Mid June = 7% Mid July = 13% Mid August = 19% LINK

NYC:  NYC To Require Vax Card And Proof Of ID For Indoor Activities

Jamaica:  JUST IN: #Jamaica recorded 794 new #COVID19 cases in the last 24 hours. The positivity rate now stands at 43.8%. 15 deaths were recorded in the latest update.

US:  NEW: Number of Americans hospitalized with COVID-19 tops 95,000

Florida:  Vaccinated man dies in Florida, daughters share their anger and urge people to get vaccinated LINK

Montana:  In Missoula, Mayor John Engen said, “Our hospitals, more than a year and-a-half into the pandemic, are in the most dire situation they’ve been in to date." LINK

Australia:  JUST IN: Australia's most-populous city, Sydney, extends lockdown until end of September

Oregon:  patient with COVID died in the emergency room at an Oregon hospital because no ICU beds were available - OPB

Canada:  “Alberta Health Services said the outbreak consists of 15 staff and physicians who have tested positive, as well as five patients — all of whom were at the hospital for non-COVID health reasons — who acquired COVID-19 while in hospital.”

Georgia:  Beloved coach, teacher dies of COVID-19 at 36 despite being vaccinated LINK

World:  Norwegian study: More than half of young people with mild Covid-19 infections experienced Long Covid LINK

World:  Trial data from AstraZeneca on Friday raised the prospect of a new treatment to prevent COVID beyond vaccines, giving hope in particular for people who respond poorly to immunisation shots. The British drugmaker said its new antibody therapy reduced the risk of people developing any COVID symptoms by 77% in a late-stage trial. The company said that 75% of the participants in the trial for the therapy - which comprises two types of antibodies discovered by Vanderbilt University Medical Center in the United States - had chronic conditions including some with a lower immune response to vaccinations. LINK

US:  Actor Melissa Joan Hart believes she got breakthrough COVID from her kids after they went back to school. "It's weighing on my chest. It's hard to breathe. One of my kids, I think, has it so far. I'm praying that the other ones are okay." LINK

US:  Lack of hospital staff continue to plague many Southern states. Nationally, 13% of hospitals are reporting critical staffing shortages, up from 9% at the beginning of the month. In Louisiana, over 1 in every 4 hospitals are critically short on staff.

Israel:  80% of covid patients on ECMO in Israel are unvaccinated.

World:  Compared to previous years. Over the last 4 weeks deaths from causes, other than COVID-19, are 11% higher than would normally be expected in 50-64 females…

World:  Anecdotes tell us what the data can’t: Vaccinated people appear to be getting the coronavirus at a surprisingly high rate. But exactly how often isn’t clear, nor is it certain how likely they are to spread the virus to others. And now, there’s growing concern that vaccinated people may be more vulnerable to serious illness than previously thought. LINK

World:  "The Scientific Process Is Short-Circuited By Politics" - Startling Admission From Scientists Jeopardizes Biden's Boosters LINK

US:  This Is Why Your Walmart Could Be Closed This WeekendSTORES ACROSS THE COUNTRY ARE CLOSING THEIR DOORS UNTIL AT LEAST SUNDAY. HERE'S WHY. LINK

Japan:  Infected woman in Japan loses baby after being unable to find hospital that would admit her LINK

Arkansas:  There are currently 345 COVID-19 patients on ventilators statewide. This is an all-time high for Arkansas.

Virginia:  The University of Virginia disenrolls at least 238 students who didn’t comply with the school’s Covid-19 vaccine requirement before in-person classes begin on Monday, a university spokesperson says. LINK

Tennessee:  BREAKING: #COVID19 situation dire in West Tennessee. @uthsc warns ERs may soon be forced to triage medical care, turning away patients who, they believe, are unlikely to survive! Failure to impose mask mandates and other mitigation measures will be “catastrophic.”

Canada:  Health officials in B.C.'s north have declared a COVID-19 outbreak among employees working on the Site C hydroelectric dam project. LINK

US:  NEW: Civil rights pioneer Jesse Jackson Sr. and his wife have been hospitalized after testing positive for COVID-19 LINK

Australia:  NSW recorded 830 new locally acquired cases of #COVID19 in the 24 hours to 8pm last night.

US:  Hilary Duff reveals COVID-19 diagnosis despite being vaccinated LINK

New Zealand:  #BREAKING Mandatory scanning/signing in is being introduced for busy places and large gatherings to ensure the Government can contact trace quickly, Hipkins says

Georgia:  Cobb County hospital requesting mobile morgue as COVID-19 cases surge LINK